By Bloodshedbaby

Will be NC-17, PG-13 to R for this part.

    This was written for Sadbhyl, and the requirements were: Spuffy (obviously, since it's a spuffy ficathon) and

Up to two other characters (besides Spike & Buffy) - optional: Ethan, Joyce

1-3 Requirements: S2, heavy UST

1-3 Restrictions: No angst, no slash

So I bring you.... this! :)  Takes place during season 2's Halloween episode, and uh... yeah. Many thanks to the beta-age of Spikeskat!! Thank you! You helped my Elizabeth soo much!!

Part 1

    "Well! This is just... neat!" Spike exclaimed, looking around at the chaos erupting  on the crowded the streets.  Deciding his game face wasn't enough of a costume to suit his present mood, he dipped his hand in the pocket of his duster and pulled out the item he had nicked earlier from the costume shop.

    Tossing the plastic packaging carelessly to the ground, he pinned the metal star to the front of his leather coat. Satisfied, Spike resumed his casual stroll down the street.

++++++++

    Elizabeth looked around in a horrified daze, her urge to swoon nearly overwhelming. She was a gently reared young woman and the situation she had found herself thrust into was too much for her delicate constitution; the whole thing was most improper.  Her breath hitched on a sharp gasp, and she once again gave serious thought to swooning. Surely that was a more ladylike action than screaming as she was wont to do at the peculiar scenario playing out before her eyes. 

    She ran into an alley, certain she had managed to escape that wretched thing from the obscure little cottage she had been led to.  Picking up her skirts, she turned to make her way purposefully through the alley, when a filthy man with perfectly dreadful teeth suddenly accosted  her. It was a pirate.  Elizabeth had heard of such men and knew that not a lot of good came from them.  They were scoundrels and pillagers of the worst sort, the whole lot of them.

    The man grinned evilly, and slurred, "pretty, pretty, pretty." 

    The air thickened with an odor so foul, Elizabeth nearly gagged, the stench overwhelming her refined senses.  Too late, she realized the man was advancing on her, in complete disregard of propriety.  A tendril of fear shot through her, as she took note of his improper advancement on her person, his eyes filled with something she couldn't even begin to put a name to.

    When he reached out for her, the situation took on a more sinister note, and Elizabeth shrunk back with terror. Spinning, she picked up her skirts in an attempt to flee, when his dirty, beefy hand  suddenly clamped around her pristine wrist. She was forcefully wrenched around, and the crude man thrust his face into hers, his cracked lips searching for hers.

    Elizabeth felt her first real stirrings of panic, hurtling beyond anything ever felt before. She was about to violated, and while the intimate details of such an act remained elusive, she knew enough to fear it happening this way.   She could smell the overwhelming stench of his breath, the feel of his rough cracked lips, as they ground painfully against her own delicate ones, and felt a small piece of her slipping away, much as if the horrid events were happening to someone else.

    Suddenly, a sharp click broke through his grunting symphony, and Elizabeth felt the hands that had begun to roughly seek her fleshy wealth beneath the voluminous fabric of her dress, cease their unwanted caress.

    "It 'pears to me like you need to pull in them horns there, pardner," a low, rough voice drawled with deliberate assuredness.  To Elizabeth, the western drawled voice was that of an angel. "So, why don't you just back on off and leave the li'l lady be." 

    The hands that had been holding her hostage, quickly fell away. Elizabeth wasted no time in putting distance between this brute and herself, looking down with immediate dismay at the disheveled fate her gown had suffered.

    Quickly forgetting that she had almost been compromised, Elizabeth jerked her head up to give her beastly tormenter a small piece of her mind, when she was suddenly ensnared in a web of shock. Her eyes met those of her rescuer, and sunk into the bluest eyes she'd ever laid claim to. She felt a swoon come on, for certain this time.

    With a studied casualness, she watched as the newcomer brought the barrel of his gun to touch the brim of his hat, tipping it back off his face, while giving her a slow, lazy, nod. His eyes seemed to sparkle with shimmering appreciation as he regarded her.  She found her own lips curling into a small smile, wishing suddenly for the fan she usually carried at all times.

    Sensing their distraction, the man who had assaulted her decided to try his luck at escape, turning quickly to dart away.

    Before he could take more than two steps, the newcomer had the previously  re-holstered pistol out and Elizabeth watched as it danced in his hands, before the fine ivory handle finally struck a blow at the base of the fleeing man's head. Elizabeth watched, mesmerized, as the evil man  crumpled to the ground, rendered completely unconscious.

    It had happened so fast, Elizabeth was sure she was standing there, mouth agape, simply staring.  Ladies do not stare, echoed through her head, and  she brought herself to quick attention to find her savior smiling with surprising  familiarity in her direction. 

    "Kind sir, I would like to thank you for your... assistance," She began primly, her hands itching for the familiar curve of her fan and parasol.   Elizabeth found her eyes darting around nervously, once more taking in the unfamiliar buildings and surroundings.

    "Much obliged, ma'am, glad to be of assistance," the man drawled, tipping his hat once more  in a mocking gesture of gentlemanly courtesy.  He also cast a slow leisurely glance around, a frown settling over the full lips that had, just moments before, been full of amusement. "Wouldn't happen to know where in tarnations we was, would ya?"

    Elizabeth's face briefly showed her surprise, before she quickly schooled her features into an expected mask of forbearance, one that she detested. "No, sir, I fear I am not in possession of such knowledge."

    He cocked his head to stare at her, wondering the reason for the tempered emotions.  "So, what's your name, pretty little filly?"

    Her eyes reflected her confusion before she finally figured out his strange manner of speech.  "Are you requesting an introduction?"

    A laugh escaped, rich and throaty, an entirely too pleasing sound for her peace of mind. Elizabeth could feel her cheeks heat and knew her face was painted a bright scarlet under his close scrutiny.

    "Well, bust my gravy.  Yeah, I think I am requesting an introoo-duction," came the drawn out reply.

    Elizabeth drew herself up, splotches of anger adding themselves to the shade of mortification that colored her cheeks.  "You, sir, have deplorable manners.  But since you have dispatched the only person I have ever met with even more deplorable manners than yourself, I will overlook your rudeness.  My name is Elizabeth Anne Montgomery," she revealed in her most haughty tone, the one she had long before perfected to drive unwanted suitors away.

    This time, the hat came off and was clutched to his chest, as the man bowed slightly in front of her, the mocking grin still in place. "A pleasure, ma'am.  The name's Willie.   Wallopin' Willie, to some. Sheriff of this here town." The infuriating man slapped his hat back on his head while looking around, a confused look replacing his smug, superior one. "Well, not this one, I don't reckon.  Where did you say we wuz again?"

    "I didn't," Elizabeth retorted, trying to crush down the temper that always served to be her downfall. Meek and obedient she was not, much to her family's chagrin.  "I..." Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by the sound of a name being called from beyond the alley. "BUFFY!!" 

    Suddenly fear slammed back into her, and she found herself clutching  Willie's arm, his well-worn western duster soft and pliant beneath her tight grip. Just as the arm that lay beneath was hard and muscular.  "Oh, sir, you must help me." She gestured to the entrance of the alley.  "Please," she sobbed, mortified that she was so overcome by fright. "You have no idea the extent of their madness. I fear for my very life!"

     Willie drew himself up, enjoying the feel of this damsel's warmness pressed against him. Keeping the peace was his job, and one that he took very seriously.  He may not know where he was, but danged if he was going to go all slack happy now, and abandon his post.

      With a encouraging nod, he tipped the brim of his hat at her once more, and then was striding down the alley, his steps sure and deliberate.

    Angel heard it first, the slow clank of metal sounding from the alley ahead of them. It sounded like... spurs?  Then he hit upon a scent. Buffy, and he allowed himself to relax a fraction. Another scent drifted into his awareness, and his forehead furrowed in confusion. It was familiar, yet not. Much like Buffy's scent had been altered. 

    A lone figure stepped out of the shadowed alley into the full glare of the street lights.  "Howdy, folks."

    Cordelia exchanged looks with Angel, as recognition dawned on them both.  "Oh great. Now we've got Frontier Man," Cordelia announced derisively, crossing her arms across her chest.

    Angel's worry peaked when he recognized Spike, smelling Buffy's presence close by. This did not bode well, and was, quite frankly, his worst fear.  As she was now, Buffy was completely at the mercy of whichever vampire was lucky enough to cross her path, and Spike figured heavily into his concern. 

    Suddenly, Xander burst forward, his Uzi held threateningly in his capable hands. "Halt! Who goes there? Identify yourself."

    In the blink of an eye, a pair of ivory handled pistols appeared in Spike's  hands, pointed in Xander's direction. Both men attempted to stare the other down, eyes unblinking.  "Think you'd be wise to holster that pistol of yours, pardner. Don't think you want me running your worthless hide in, now do ya?"  Willie asked menacingly.

    "Request denied," Xander barked, stepping forward.

    Angel grabbed at his arm, earning a hostile glare.  "He's a vampire," Angel warned.  "Your bullets won't do much good. I'll take care of this."  Soldier Xander gave a curt nod, and backed up a step, keeping his back rigid and prepared.

    "Spike, what did you do with Buffy?" Angel asked, attempting to use his familial bond to control the vampire, finding himself unable to establish a link.

    "Well now, not sure who this Buffy person is, or this Spike," came the reply, the twin pistols now trained on the dark-haired vamp.

    "Duh! You're Spike," Cordelia answered. "What is wrong with you people? Did everybody eat like a dipshit sandwich for breakfast?"

    "The name's Willie. Wallopin' Willie Lyndon. I'm the long arm of the law around these parts."  Steely eyes bored into the group in front of him, all forced to bear witness that Spike was not in the drivers seat here.  If the western accent hadn't clued them in, the authentic dusty boots, dark jeans, and shirt would have given it away. His typical leather duster had been replaced by a western coat, and a black Stetson was perched rakishly on his head, effectively covering the platinum hair.  Angel knew that Spike wouldn't be caught dead in this outfit, briefly wondering why he'd received the full getup when the other's had just obtained pieces of the costumes they had borne. 

    "Sp- I mean, Willie. Where's... Elizabeth?" Angel asked.

     Willie's eyes narrowed with suspicion, gauging this man in front of him. "The little lady is under my protection now," he stated in a tone that offered no rebuke.

    Angel sighed heavily, tipping his face to the stars. 'Why me?' he thought briefly. 

    "And unless you want a little lead in your hide, I suggest y'all just skedaddle," Willie continued.

    Elizabeth heard Willie's words, and a strange sensation rushed through her at the timbre of his voice.  Feeling her confidence returning to her, she decided to face her fear, rather than run off like she had earlier.  She cringed at the pathetic weak creature she had presented before, letting the docile weak female take over, while she had fought against that stereotype for years. 

    Now determined, she stepped out of the alley, keeping her chin up in defiance. She made sure to halt right behind her savior, rather than at his side. She wasn't that rebellious.

    Angel caught the spark of fire now present in Buffy's eyes, desperate to learn if the love of his life had returned to him. "Buffy?" He asked cautiously.

    Tossing her hair back, Elizabeth bit out primly, "As I have informed you on several occasions, vampire, my name is Elizabeth."

    Willie sent a curious look over his shoulder. "Vampire?"

    "I... uh... think that is what he is.  I believe he is quite dangerous, and we would all be wise to be on our guard," Buffy replied with less certainty.

    Willie nodded thoughtfully, bringing up one six shooter to a more lethal position. 

    "God, why do I ever get mixed up with you people?" Cordelia ranted.  "Did you, like, sprinkle stupidity on your cornflakes or something?  You're a vampire too, you gun-toting idiot."

    "Well, if that don't beat all," Willie replied with a wide amused grin.  "Me, a vampire."  He looked behind at Elizabeth. "You sure as shootin' wasn't lying about the madness. This gang is hang dog crazy."

    A small chord of recognition struck Elizabeth suddenly, only to be gone the next second, while she continued to watch the confrontation. She nodded in agreement, shooting them a haughty glare. "Yes, quite.  I fear they must have escaped from an institution."

    "We're crazy?" Cordelia asked, aghast. When she opened her mouth to continue her tirade, Angel cut her off with the wave of a hand.

    "We've got to get her away from him," Angel announced quietly.

    "Duh!"

    Willow chose that moment to walk through the building they were standing in front, a sly grin on her face. "This is so cool!!" she exclaimed excitedly, trying to decide who she could go scare next. 

    "Jumpin' josephat!" Willie exclaimed, training his sharp six-shooter on the scantily clad newcomer.

    Elizabeth stood up on tips of her toes and whispered in his ear, "It's one of them. I believe I informed you something was amiss."

    Willow did a double take when she saw who Elizabeth was huddled behind. "Spike??!!"

    A familiar cocky grin flashed. "Aww shucks, don't know about that..." Suddenly remembering ladies were present, Willie wisely didn't finish that statement.

    Willow looked over the others, confusion filling her face.  

     "Do I have permission to terminate the enemy?" Soldier Xander barked suddenly, causing more than one jolt of surprise.

    "No!  There will be no terminating... of any kind!" Willow exclaimed.

    "You have no authority to give orders, ma'am."

    Willow rounded on Soldier Xander, prepared to once again bring him over to her way of thinking, with Angel and Cordelia adding their comments.  They didn't realize that the intended targets had slipped away into the night, and Cordelia had no hesitation in letting Angel know exactly what she thought of his skills as a stalker.

    Unfortunately for them, Willie's skills at hiding their trail were flawless, even in these modern times he found himself in.  There was a niggling at the back of his skull, something that found all of this familiar, but he worked desperately to push it away.

    Willie even found Elizabeth familiar at times. Especially when she would flash her green eyes at him, and give him a few lashes of her tongue. 'Wouldn't mind her tongue lashing somethin' else," rose unbidden to his forethoughts, causing him to harden painfully in his jeans.  He was forced to throw his pelvis forward to relieve a bit of the pressure, as they walked down a strangely paved road.

    "Do you always walk in such an obscene manner?" Elizabeth asked disdainfully, noticing the exaggerated swagger of the man next to her. Much to her dismay, she found her gaze drawn to the muscles that were being prominently displayed beneath the western duster.  Mortification overtook her as she realized that she liked what she saw.

    The infuriating man refused to give her the common courtesy of an answer.  Rather began to grin like a mad man, causing Elizabeth to blush a stunning crimson.

    Willie could hear her heart rate escalate, and could only guess the reason for it. Then a thought struck him. How in tarnation could he hear her heart beating?

    Before he could give that thought any more consideration, a scream sounded through the air, bringing him to full attention.

    "Oh good heavens! I do believe someone is in need of assistance!" Elizabeth cried, her eyes searching the deserted street.  "Oh, I do hope there is a constable around."

    "There is," Willie announced, striding purposefully in the direction the scream had come from.

    "Sir, I beg your delay on this matter." She picked up her skirts and gave chase. "I am in need of your protection!"

    He turned so suddenly, that Elizabeth was unable to keep herself from running into his chest. A firm chest, she realized fleetingly, as her hands splayed out against it.  They regarded each other intently, eyes burning into the other, both feeling something trying to crawl its way out of their memories.

    "I... I... I don't think I like you," Elizabeth breathed, unable to tear her gaze away, focused keenly on his full lips.

    Strong hands gripped her waist. "And I sure as shootin' don't think I like you either," Willie growled. "But... I know I want to do this." Without hesitation, he dipped his head down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, one that was so unlike her first and only kiss just moments before.

    Heat sizzled through Elizabeth, forbidden heat in forbidden places, as she found her arms snaking up and wrapping themselves around Willie's neck, almost of their own accord.  She felt his arms slip around her waist, and she was drawn impossibly close. Even through the yards of fabric, she could feel the hardness of his body. 

    This was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this, she knew it, but the sensations snaking their way through her body made it impossible to stop.  Elizabeth wanted more.  For once, she understood the urges of women that had only been whispered about behind her back. Understood it, and wanted it.  She didn't know why it was him, this... westerner, but he made her burn in a way she never thought possible.

    A small moan escaped her mouth, and she felt his beautiful lips leave hers to trail a cool path along her jaw down to her neck. New sensations hit her, the least of which the coolness of his skin, and her head tipped back to give those lips more skin to work with.  All sense of propriety had left her, and she found herself not bothered by it, in the least.

    Suddenly, she felt a sharp prick replace the loving sensation of Willie's lips, and she stiffened in his embrace. She heard a moan of ecstasy released, and his hips ground against her with a heightened frenzy.  Suddenly, she felt a pulling sensation where his mouth was attached to her neck, and she gasped, almost frightened by the sudden surge of desire that flooded her.

    Abruptly, she pushed Willie away in blind panic, gasping in shock at what greeted her when he fell to the ground.  Confused yellow eyes peered up at her, blood dripping from teeth that were much too long to be normal. Willie was like the other one. Angel.  Elizabeth slapped her hand to the gaping wounds on her neck, her breath coming in faster, as panic began to ensue. 

    "Well, if that just don't beat all," Willie announced in a perplexed tone. He jumped up to his feet, using his index finger to clean the remaining blood dribbling down his chin, before sucking it off his finger.  "You're kinda tasty," he added as an afterthought.

    Elizabeth shrunk back in terror, shuddering when the yellow eyes changed back to the blue she had been so mesmerized with all evening.  "You, sir, are a... a...

    His baffled expression turned concerned when he saw Elizabeth's pending flight. "Hey now, little filly. Ain't gonna hurt a hair on that purty little head of yours.  Just took me by surprise, is all."

    He looked so sincere, that Elizabeth halted her escape and let him walk up to her. With everything that had happened this evening, her gut instinct seemed to be homing in on this particular man, and she wanted to trust that it knew what it was talking about.

    "I will thank you to keep your teeth to yourself in the future, Sheriff," Elizabeth ordered boldly, tipping her chin up to meet his eyes.  She could practically feel the imprints of his hands on her, and suddenly had very improper thoughts.

    A pleased smile slid across the angular handsome face. "Does that mean I gets me another kiss?"

    Again, Elizabeth's pulse rate jumped at his question, and she didn't dare think, just gave in to what her emotions were telling her. Because if she thought about it, she would be pulled back into the utter impropriety of the situation. Leaning towards him in anticipation, she offered him her lips...

    Her eyes had just fluttered shut when there was a visible shift in the air. With a strangled gasp, all traces of Elizabeth were flung into the past, and Buffy was brought forward, finding a pair of hard lips pressed against her own. Her spider sense was tingling with a raging fury, and she jumped back in shock.

    Her eyes met those of her mortal enemy, who appeared every bit as confused as she herself was. "S-spike?"

    "Slayer?" he ground out, taking a cursory look around at his surroundings. "What in the bloody fuck just happened here?"

TBC...

PART 2

Her eyes met those of her mortal enemy, who appeared every bit as confused as she herself was. "S-spike?"

"Slayer?" he ground out, taking a cursory look around at his surroundings. "What in the bloody fuck just happened here?"

Buffy shook her head slowly, as the disturbing recollection of the previous events began slowly filtering through her brain. She looked down at her gown, then reached one hand up and ripped the wig off her head in disgust, letting her blonde locks free to tumble over her shoulders.

"Hey," Spike protested, "that wasn't a bloody wig earlier."

"Wow, aren't you the total keen observer." Dealing with some major wiggins, Buffy looked around once more, trying to piece together exactly what had occurred. She noticed the shiny tin star on the breast pocket of Spike's leather duster, and couldn't help the snort that escaped as certain images struck her. Her traitorous eyes, however, had something else they wanted to check out, and her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the crotch of his tight black jeans. The large bulge still remained, and she found herself riveted. 'Oh god, she had felt that against her. That was there because of her!' she thought with increasing panic. She was seriously freaked now.

Feeling a bit spooked himself, Spike followed her gaze, and found his erection becoming even more strained under her unwavering stare. Without thought, he took a step in her direction, intent on feeling her against him once more.

Buffy snapped out of her daze, her eyes flying to his face as her slayer sense kicked in. But it wasn't the evil intent that she expected to see in his eyes, it was a convoluted desire. Unbidden, her pulse skyrocketed, and she couldn't admit it being from fear.

Mortified, Buffy managed to throw him an icy look, and fled into the night. The fact that her mortal enemy did not give chase was was not surprising. and she refused to consider the significance.

Later that night as she lay curled in her bed, finally alone after dodging a million questions, confusion ran rampant in her brain. Because she could now remember everything. Stupid Ethan Rayne and his idiotic spells. She was so going to kick his ass the next time she saw him.

++++++++++++

Buffy knew it should bother her watching Angel talk to this beautiful woman on the playground below. It was so obvious they knew each other, the body language, the intensity of the words were all enough to clue her into that. But... she felt nothing. What was up with that?

While she stood there berating herself for why she felt nothing, her Slayer sense homed in on something behind her. Crap. So not what she needed. She didn't even bother turning around, just waited until he joined her.

"Who is she?"

"Drusilla," Spike replied flatly.

Buffy turned her head to look at him, a questioning look in her eyes.

"She's been my girl for over a century. But as soon as her precious little Angelus shows up, she forgets I bloody exist."

Buffy nodded, then returned her attention to the couple below them.

"Look, Slayer, about the other night..."

Buffy whipped her head up. "So not talking about that." No way was she opening herself up to that one. There had been entirely too much thinkage on that topic as it was.

"Fine." Buffy watched him storm away, biting back the feeling of regret at seeing him leave. Sighing heavily, she turned around and went to patrol, unaware she had a majorally pissed off vamp on her tail.

++++++++++

"Ford, help me stop this... Please!" Buffy pleaded, her anxiety level rising through the roof. Stupid Ford. Who named their kid after a car, anyway?

Ford refused to listen to her, and Buffy ran over to the stairs again, Ford at her heels. "People, listen to me! This is not the mothership, people! This is ugly death come to play!" She called out.

Much to her dire shock, her words fell on deaf ears. 'Ok, maybe not so much with the ugly' she thought traitorously. Her inattention proved to be damaging; Ford managed to sneak up behind her and knocked her ass over backwards down the stairs. Ouch. Ok, he was at the top of her shit list for that one. Ford managed to land one more lucky blow while she was attempting to get up, and down she went again. Oh yeah, he was in for a world of hurt.

Through her pain and anger with a hefty side of embarrassment thrown in, she heard the outside door open, and groaned to herself. This was so not her night. Buffy decided to fight as lame as Ford had, and played possum. She allowed her hair to fan across her half hidden face, and watched as the inner doors opened. Ford totally fell for it, gloating proudly that he had rendered the Slayer unconscious. Riiiiight... as if.

And then, there he was, in all his vampiric glory. Great. Why did he have to look so good? Wasn't there some cosmic rule that said all vampires had to be butt ugly, and could NEVER ooze sex appeal? Well, all soulless vampires, anyway.

Spike was determined to do the Slayer in, once and for all. She had been haunting his thoughts entirely too often for his liking, and they weren't entirely evil musings of hatred, either. Drusilla had noticed his distraction, and had guessed the reasons for it. Either guessed, or sucked it out of his brain, he could never tell when it came to his Dark Princess. This was his one chance to prove that he felt nothing for the bitch, that he could drain her drier than the bleedin' Sahara.

The disbelieving look had Dru had given him had set him right off, and her refusal to join him on his victorious slaying of his third Slayer had bloody well chapped him. So he had gone along with the annoying human git's proposal; the Slayer practically hand delivered for him to do in, and the sod's payment would be immortality.

But, when he stalked in and the first thing that drew his attention was the crumpled body of HER at the bottom of the stairs, with the gloating retard hovering proudly over her, Spike just saw red.

With a vicious roar, he bounded down the steps, knocking the boy aside while he knelt at the Slayer's side. Reaching his hand out, he gently brushed her hair away from her face. He smiled with wry amusement when he took note of her tightly clenched eyelids, and her body tense with anticipation. So... the bint was playing hard to get. Unable to help himself, Spike bent down to blow a cool stream of air directly into her ear.

It had the desired effect. Buffy jumped up, eyes wide, and immediately scooted backwards away from the crouched vampire. The vampire who was sitting there looking at her with a smug, amused, shit eating grin on his face. Asshole. The vampire who was looking way too good, with his hair not quite as slicked back as it usually was. It was kinda... tousled. Oh god, was that cute? Did he have cute hair?

"Well... If it isn't the fair maiden, all distressed, like."

"Well... If it isn't Wallopin Willie, long arm of the law," Buffy mocked snidely, trying not to notice the devilish glint of his eyes. His nice pretty blue eyes that she seemed to lose herself in every damn time she looked in them. Like now, for instance.

"I'm touched. You remember." Spike stood up suddenly, closing the distance between them.

Buffy scrambled to her feet, trying to ignore the waves of dizziness that accompanied that motion. Ok, this wasn't good. She tried not to feel a tad hurt by the fact that Spike had set her up, then smacked herself mentally for feeling betrayed. Spike was a cold blooded killer, no matter how nice his lips had felt on hers. Or how close she felt to him now, thanks to that stupid costume caper. "Kinda hard to forget something like that," she shot back finally.

Spike's face softened. "Yeah." His attention was drawn to the laceration on her temple. Reaching his hand out, he gently wiped a finger across the rivulets of blood streaming down her face, bringing it into his mouth. "You still taste good though."

Before Buffy could protest, Ford walked up with his self-appreciation on proud display. "Sooo... when do I get my reward? I got her here for you."

Wow, some friend he was turning out to be, Buffy thought bitterly, dizziness beginning to assault her with even more ferocity. Oh god, this was so not good. She could see the darkness try to crowd the corners of her vision. 'No!' she cried to herself. 'Don't let me do that swooning thing!'

Disgust filled Spike's face, and he turned to strike the boy down, when he noticed the Slayer beginning to sway on her feet, her face completely devoid of color. With a frustrated growl, he caught her just as her eyes rolled back, and oblivion claimed her. Fuck. This wasn't part of the bleedin plan, standing there holding the bloody unconscious Slayer, with absolutely no motivation to kill her.

Turning around swiftly, he lashed out with his foot in frustration, sending a chair flying across the room, where it slammed into the wall and splintered. The obnoxious boy looked at him with confusion. "You said you would turn me, if I gave you the Slayer," Ford reminded him, without a hint of fear. There was too much riding on this for fear to enter the picture, he NEEDED to become one of the Immortal Ones.

"I said when I do her in," Spike growled, rudely brushing past the annoying git as he headed for the stairs.

"Well? When is that going to be? Hello! You've got her right there!" Ford called after him, his friends watching in eager anticipation of joining the ranks of the Lonely Ones.

"Fuck if I know," Spike muttered bitterly, taking the stairs two at a time, slamming the door shut behind him. He stood there in the alley, a battle being raged bitterly in his head. He glanced down at the unconscious form of the soddin' Slayer, vulnerable and absolutely defenseless in his arms, and death was the absolutely last thing he felt like inflicting right now. His eyes flickered over her petite form, the slight swell of her breasts as her chest rose and fell in time with her breathing, and he tried desperately to fight the waves of affection that rose within him.

With an angry snarl, he strode off down the alley, not wanting to admit to being concerned by her prolonged unconsciousness. This was fucked; he knew it, but couldn't quite find it within himself to care very much.

Just as he rounded the corner of the alley, he saw the Slayer's band of merry men coming his way, their expressions anxious and terse. The Poof was leading the way, his brow furrowed and dark. Their anxiety turned to fear when they saw Spike with Buffy in his evil clutches, her body flailed limply in his arms.

"Spike," Angel ground out, a warning growl rumbling from his chest.

"Oh, sod off, Peaches." Making a decision, Spike stalked over to where his Grande-Sire stood, and threw Buffy into his arms. "She got knocked on the head a bit." With that, Spike stormed off, head down, with his black duster billowing behind him.

"Is she ok?" Willow asked anxiously, checking Buffy's neck frantically, only finding evidence of Spike's previous mark upon her neck.

Angel stared after Spike for a moment, then looked down at the girl in his arms. "Yeah, I can hear her heart beating. She's fine. I think she really was just knocked out."

Xander and Willow exchanged glances. "So... what's with the Bleached Menace doing the Buffy save-age thing?" Xander asked. "I thought we were here to save her from his evil claws."

Angel sighed heavily, not liking the direction of his thoughts. He just shrugged with feigned ignorance, and resigned himself to taking Buffy to her Watcher.

An hour later, Buffy lay sleeping in her bed with her mom none the wiser, and Angel asked Giles to join him for a drink while he confronted him with his concerns.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, Giles asked, "So, you're saying that Spike... just THREW Buffy at you?"

Angel tossed himself down heavily on his couch, and nodded wearily. "Yes, that's what I'm saying."

"And she was unconscious and bleeding in his arms?"

Angel nodded grimly.

"Good lord. Quite frankly, I don't know what to make of this. Do you have any ideas?"

A black look flashed across the vampire's face. "Yeah, but I'm not sure that I like them."

Giles looked startled. "You're... not suggesting that Spike has... feelings for Buffy, are you?"

There was another grim nod, as both men picked up their drinks in unison, and downed them in one quick gulp, before turning to refill their tumblers. It was going to be one of those nights.

++++++++++

part 3

Thanks to Spike'sKat for the fabulous beta job! also thanks to Beanmommy, Maidenro, Peta, Jerzeyangel, and anyone else I forgot!! Babysquid and BlueIrish, this chapter is for you. Well parts of it, anyway!! :p

Joyce quickly locked the door to the gallery, peering around anxiously. She usually tried to be home before nightfall, not entirely oblivious to some of the strange happenings that seemed to occur in Sunnydale. She just remained ignorant to the heroic part her daughter played in all of it.

Walking quickly, she reached her Jeep in the vacant parking lot, allowing herself to relax a fraction as she pushed the key into the lock. With traffic now waning due to the lateness of the hour, she figured she would be home in ten minutes. 'Buffy had better have her homework finished,' she thought fleetingly, just as she opened the driver's side door and prepared to slide in.

Joyce jumped in alarm, then downright panic, when the door was suddenly wrenched from her grasp, and slammed shut. Whirling around, she was faced with a trio of men. 'Not men,' she decided. These were some of the monsters that had been whispered about, and her life flashed before her eyes as she realized by their sinister grins that they weren't here merely to hitchhike.

"Well, look fellas. We have the Slayer's mom here," one of them announced proudly, bringing a round of chortles and cat calls. "What should we do with her?"

"Let's eat her, and leave her on the Slayer's doorstep to trip over," came the brilliant suggestion.

"Yeah. I kinda like that idea." They began to close in on Joyce, and she got an up close and personal look at the sharp teeth and protruding foreheads they seemed to all sport. 'Early Cro-Magnon man, perhaps?' she thought in a brief moment of blinding hysteria.

Just as Joyce could feel their tepid breath on her neck, her eyes scrunched tightly shut in fear while she berated herself for lacking the will to fight for her life, they were suddenly... gone.

Joyce's eyes flew open to find a sprinkling of dust settle to the ground where the evil men used to stand. In a state far beyond mere confusion, she looked blankly at the blonde man holding a sharp, pointed object in his hand.

"Did you just... do something?" Joyce asked haltingly.

He nodded his head in disgust. "Yeah, I did." Spike turned to storm off, when he noticed the rest of the band of idiots beginning to gather. They were all young, but they had figured out how to gang together, making them more formidable than Spike felt like dealing with right now.

Shaking his head wryly at what he was about to do, Spike turned around and grabbed the set of keys that were sticking out of car door. "Get in," he ordered, opening the driver's side door and slid in behind the wheel.

Joyce stood looking at him, her feet seemed glued to the pavement, and Spike roared his impatience. "Look, I think you'll be wanting to be gettin' in right about now. Or you can always take your own chances against that lot." He gestured behind her towards the rapidly advancing group of vampires.

Joyce spun around, her eyes widening comically at the approaching gang of... whatever they were. Without a second thought, she hurried around to the passenger door. With a quick flick of her wrist, she had the door open and launched herself inside the vehicle. She had barely gotten the door shut and her seatbelt buckled before the blonde stranger had the SUV in reverse, and gunned the gas pedal, sending them roaring out of the parking lot.

A terse silence filled the car during the short drive, Joyce being too frazzled to attempt any conversation. And quite frankly, she was a bit frightened by her rescuer. He had been alternating between scowling and smacking the steering wheel practically the entire way, and he didn't look like he'd win the award for Sunnydale's most stellar citizen. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man had some serious issues.

Just as they were pulling into her driveway, Joyce finally came to her senses. "How did you know where I lived?" she demanded, in what she hoped was a threatening tone.

"Listen, if I'd wanted to do ya in, I bloody well would have already," the man bit back in his exaggerated British accent, exiting the Jeep, and tossing her the keys.

Joyce warily kept her eye on him as they walked up the stairs leading to the front door, still feeling the need for her obviously reluctant bodyguard. She slipped her house key into the lock, and opened the door. She looked quizzically over her shoulder at the good-looking stranger, and found him standing just outside her door.

"Gonna invite me in?" His voice seemed to hold a challenging note that Joyce immediately responded to.

"Fine, come in."

A smirk spread across his face, and he casually strolled across the threshold. Spike had taken his chances and dared her like he would've her daughter. Apparently, they were both cut from the same cloth.

"Mom?" a voice called, as footsteps pounded down the hallway upstairs.

Spike waited with anticipation as the Slayer flew down the stairs in her usual youthful exuberance, his smirk broadening into a full fledged grin.

A quick intake of breath alerted him that his presence had been duly noted, as she glared at him from the middle of the stairs. "Well, well. If it isn't my favorite damsel, in the very flesh," Spike drawled, eyeing her revealing top and tight jeans appreciatively.

"And wow, look at that. It's wee Willie."

"That's Wallopin' Willie to you, Slayer," Spike practically snarled, his temper immediately piqued as only she could manage to do.

"Oh... I'll wallop your willie, Spike," Buffy shot back, taking the rest of the stairs menacingly, her hand reaching for the stake she always kept in her back pocket. She stopped right in front of him, her chin tipped up defiantly, completely ignoring her mother's stunned presence.

To her surprise, Spike began laughing. Deep, rich chuckles that sent delicious little shivers running through her again.

"You'll do what to my willie, slayer?" Spike asked, his voice colored with amusement, and a hint of something else.

Buffy, who had hardly ever blushed in her life, found herself with cheeks the color of crimson. Again. Luckily, Buffy's mother butted in about that time, so Buffy was saved from being forced to give a witty retort, which she found herself so totally incapable of at that moment.

"Buffy? You know this man?"

The two blonde's heads turned in unison to regard Joyce. "Yes," Buffy remarked churlishly. "Unfortunately."

"Hey, better be nice now. I just saved your mum."

It finally dawned on Buffy that Spike was in her house. And her mom had invited him in. Rounding on her mom, she lectured, "Mom, you can't just go inviting strangers into the house! We live in Sunnydale!!!"

"And that makes a difference... why?" Joyce asked, her confusion turning into outright suspicion with the odd behavior her daughter was displaying.

"Because... because... it just does, ok!!" Buffy exclaimed heatedly, placing her fisted hands on her hips. "So, what happened? Are you ok?" For some reason, she knew that her mom hadn't been in danger in Spike's presence. Just like she knew that if she even dared to repeat that to her friends or her Watcher, they'd probably lock her up and throw away the key. It was just... a thing. Just like she kinda knew Spike felt the same way, which is why he felt so totally unthreatened in her presence now.

Her mom drew herself up, finally calling on her internal strength to get a part of her frazzled emotions under control. "Yes, Buffy, I am fine. Now." She cast a look towards Spike, who she found regarding her daughter. "Your... friend here rescued me, I think." Spike finally turned his intense, blue eyes in her direction, and Joyce asked, "What were those things?"

"Uh..." Spike began, looking at Buffy with an amused look on his face. Fancy that. The Slayer's mum didn't know she was the Chosen Bird. That was... well, amusing.

Spike and Buffy watched as Joyce began to pace the room with a distracted air, mumbling to herself. "Your mum is off her nut," Spike commented.

Buffy glared at him. "It's your stupid fault."

"Oooh, stop with the harsh words, luv."

"Shut up."

Joyce's ramblings began to get louder, as she tried to puzzle things out in her head. "But... why did they turn to dust then?" She brought her index finger to her lip as they pursed with intense concentration. Then she gasped suddenly, and turned to them excitedly. "I've got it! It's like that movie... what was it called... with the guy frozen in the ice?"

"Encino Man?" Buffy supplied helpfully.

"No, no! Not that one. Oh! I have it! Iceman. It was Iceman, wasn't it? Where they find that guy who had been frozen in the ice for what, thousands of years? And brought him back to life? With Timothy Hutton?" Joyce hadn't been really asking a question, and she began to pace around again, comparing the vampire attack with the movie Iceman. Her manner was almost schizophrenic, and Buffy began to regard her with concern. She was calm, then wiggy; calm, then wiggy. It was unnerving.

Suddenly, Spike shifted into game face when Joyce's back was turned, and began walking hunched over, his arms dragging at his sides in his best caveman impersonation. "Pita..." he said in a raspy voice, then eyed her frantically through yellow eyes, his head tossed back crazily. "PITA!!!"

Buffy eyed him incredulously, before remembering the only line that the resurrected caveman had delivered in the whole movie her mom was rambling on about. She couldn't help the giggle that slipped past her lips. Suddenly, the whole situation struck her as hilarious, and she slapped her hand over her mouth as a whoop of laughter erupted.

Joyce whipped around just in time to see Spike's features smooth out once more. Her startled gasp served to end Buffy's hysteria, and she sobered quickly.

"Buffy, just what is going on. And don't tell me nothing, because I'm not going to buy that anymore." Joyce watched as Buffy exchanged looks with Spike, then turned back to her.

"Fine. But just don't freak because I didn't tell you before, ok?"

Her mom crossed her arms over her chest, and gave her a look that Buffy knew very well. Joyce pointed to the couch, and Buffy moved to follow her mom's unvoiced order.

TBC...

Chapter 4

Special thanks to my beta Spikeskat!! *hugs*

Buffy slumped under the weight of her mom's unwavering stare, shifting nervously on the couch. All previous signs of temporary insanity were gone, and Joyce Summers, Mom Extraordinaire, had slipped firmly back into place.

"So that's it?" her mom said finally, after letting the silence drag on for a few more dramatic, tense, moments.

"Uh... yeah?"

Another derisive snort erupted from the vampire on the couch next to her, and Joyce turned steely eyes in his direction. "Do you have anything to add to this discussion, young man?"

"Please," Spike scoffed. "I'm practically a century older than you."

"Then maybe you should begin acting like it."

It was Buffy's turn to snort, and it earned her another glare from the parental unit. Finally, Joyce just sighed, and the wind suddenly seemed to drop from her sails, resulting in her exhausted slump against the back of the chair she was perched in.

"So, that's why you've gotten yourself into so much trouble?" Joyce finally asked, not sure whether to be horrified or relieved.

Buffy nodded cautiously, trying to gauge her mother's mood. She watched as her mom reacted by getting to her feet, and headed into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder. "Who wants hot chocolate?"

Buffy looked over at Spike, who seemed to have a dumbfounded expression on his face. "Your mum is completely out of her gourd. You know that, right?"

Ignoring his comment, Buffy asked, "Tell me again why you're still here?"

Spike's face drew into a familiar smirk. "Cos you never threatened to stake me and ordered me to go, is why."

Buffy shook her head tightly. "No, I mean,.. at all."

The mocking glint on Spike's face turned serious, and he released a heavy sigh. "Dunno. Reckon it's the same reason you're letting me sit here. Just can't find it in me to hate you the way I bloody well should."

"Yeah. Me too"

They both slumped down further on opposite ends of the couch, staring straight ahead while lost in thoughts neither wanted. Nothing was the same, and neither could figure out if that was a good or a bad thing.

Later that evening, after Joyce had shooed Spike from the house as if she hadn't just learned he was a master vampire, and had in fact been the one she'd axed over the head at Buffy's school that one time, she set her daughter back down to have another talk with her. This time however, she was determined to extract a glimmer of truth from Buffy. She was curious to know why a vampire had saved her, when she had just learned that her daughter's calling entailed annihilating his kind. She had been shocked to learn that Angel was a vampire as well, and wasn't too comforted by the reassurances that he was in control of the evil part inside him; having had his soul returned to him almost a century earlier. That hadn't made much sense to Joyce, who had looked over at Spike, and decided right then that Spike was in pretty good control himself for the supposed evil creature he declared himself to be.

So the moment Buffy warily sat back down on the couch, Joyce demanded to know why Spike had saved her at the gallery. Buffy's mumbled "I don't know" and averted eyes was more telling than Buffy could ever guess. The explanation for their reluctant camaraderie had been glossed over uncomfortably by both, and Joyce's bullshit-omitor had been fully activated. Spike's bizarre behavior in the car on the drive over made more sense now, and Joyce had to admit, she was finding him quite a puzzle.

Honestly, she just didn't know quite what to think. The night had brought such added peculiarity to what she had thought was their boring, normal life, that Joyce felt like it would take years to process all she had learned. Finally, in the end, she just hugged her daughter with a kiss and a smile, and told her to go to bed.

There was a gratefulness to Buffy that brought tears to Joyce's eyes, and it hit home just how much her daughter had given up. How many false labels she'd been forced to endure. It just didn't seem fair, and Joyce decided to try to make things as easy on her as possible.

Watching Buffy flee the room, Joyce decided to go have a little chat with that lying librarian. She was completely unaware that her daughter was up in her room, preparing for nightly patrol, as she often did after claiming fatigue and heading for bed.

When Joyce left the house this time, she assumed ownership of one of Buffy's stakes, and felt a bit wiser to the ways of Sunnydale. She shook her head ruefully as she hastily closed the car door behind her. Cro-Magnon era, really. Her higher education had sure dropped the ball on that one.

+++++++++++

Buffy watched her mom drive away, knowing exactly where she was headed, and briefly contemplated calling ahead to alert Giles of her impending attack. Then, in a fit of impish rebellion, decided against it. Why should she be the only one to face the "Wrath of Mom"? Well, ok, so maybe she hadn't been ALONE exactly, but Spike didn't really count. No, not in the slightest. There was no counting of any kind when it came to a deliciously yummy vampire in tight jeans and a great ass.

Out of habit, she took her usual stealth-cut, dropping the last few feet to land easily on the damp grass. Shrugging her weapons bag higher onto her shoulder, she turned and started out for the first cemetery of the evening, completely aware she had a stalker behind her. And completely realizing that she was swinging her own ass more than she normally would to patrol. She just... couldn't seem to stop herself. Because really, the fact that she had picked her tightest jeans for patrol had nothing to do with said yummy vamp she knew would be waiting outside. Nope, not at all. Yeah right, and she'd live to a ripe ole' age too.

It was just that she could feel those intense eyes of his practically burning an imprint on her butt, and she couldn't help but shake it a little. 'Isn't that what normal sixteen year old girls were SUPPOSED to do?' she tried to rationalize to herself, but knowing full well that normal teenagers wouldn't be encouraging hundred year old master vampires to check out their ass while they took a leisurely stroll through a cemetery at night. But hey, she could live in denial, right?

An hour later, Spike finally made his presence known, unable to stand the torture a moment longer. Having to watch the seductive sway of the Slayer's hips as he followed behind her had almost driven him off his rocker. He knew the bint was doing it on purpose, and had full intentions of extracting his revenge. He was still the chit's worst bloody nightmare, even if he had to work to keep reminding himself of that fact these days.

Buffy watched as he stepped out from behind one of the fine crypts Sunnydale had to offer, digging into his pockets for his cigarettes. Buffy was unable to gauge his mood, he seemed edgier than usual. Well, since Halloween anyway. With a quick flick of his lighter, he brought the flame up to the tip of his cigarette. The sudden flare of light brought half of his face out of the shadows, which only served to accentuate his chiseled cheeks. He didn't say anything, which gave her the wiggins. One thing she had come to count on with Spike; he never shut up.

"Wow, was wondering how long you were going to be all 'Stalker Guy'," was her less than stellar greeting.

Spike just shrugged, the powerful gaze that held her becoming more unnerving the longer they stood staring at each other. Buffy found herself twirling her stake due to a sudden attack of nerves, and had a momentary flashback to Halloween night and her alter ego's desperation for something familiar in her hands. Oh god, she had something else in common with that wuss-for-brains, Lady Elizabeth. That was so wrong.

"So... Slayer." Spike tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it out beneath the toe of one tattered and worn boot. He looked back up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Think it's time we suss this out, don't you?"

"Huh? Suck what?"

An evil grin played across Spike's face. "Suss, luv. Chat it out. Come out of the bleedin' closet."

"What? I am so not gay!" Buffy cried in mortification. He didn't really think that, did he?

Spike just tipped his head to the side, an amused look on his face. "There's more than one type of closet in life, luv."

Ok, she had just made two totally blonde statements in a row, and instead of using it to belittle her, Spike just seemed to find it... amusing. This had gone so far beyond creepy, it had entered the realm of seriously disturbing. Finally, she sighed deeply and gestured with her hand. "Fine. Let's suss this out, shall we?" She turned and hopped up on a tombstone, leaving Spike pacing in front of her. "Go ahead, suss away."

He tossed a black look her way, which she answered with a sweet smile. Apparently she had managed to piss him off. Oops. Mental note to self, don't mock his messed up words. "Don't fuck with me, Slayer," he growled.

Buffy lifted her hands in a defensive gesture. "Hey, cowboy, you're the one who said you wanted to suss this out. I'm here and all for the suss-age. So why don't you just tell me what brought all this on?"

His black look heated with an emotion that Buffy tried desperately to ignore. "You know what brought it on."

Feigning ignorance, Buffy said offhandedly, "Enlighten me."

For a moment, Spike looked like he wanted to storm out of the cemetery, but then turned to face her. "Right then. How about this? Maybe you could explain why we're here chattin' each other up, instead of trying to do the other in, like good little mortal enemies are supposed to do?"

Buffy began to squirm uncomfortably from her perch on top of the headstone. This was worse than having to talk to her mom. Because at least then, she didn't have to risk looking at his penetrating gaze that kept trying to stare right into her soul. Nope, she had been able to keep her gaze completely averted and forget that she had a bleached blonde, undead hottie sitting on the couch with her. But now, his studied gaze was piercing straight through her, trying to extract something that she wasn’t quite sure she really wanted to give.

"Uh, well... I suppose I feel sorta... grateful to you. You know, for doing the Buffy save-age thing when I was under that spell," she finally managed to spit out. "It just doesn't seem right for me to try to stake you now. And then, you know, not killing me when my stupid friend tried to double cross me. He's lucky he left town, by the way. He was so in for a world of hurt."

Spike wasn't about to tell her that the idiot had shown up at the Factory to request payment, and never one to back down on his word, Spike had turned him. But then had staked him the moment he rose, anger at what the idiot had attempted to do to Buffy fueling his motivations. Buffy did not need to know about that, and never would.

"Yeah, well, there was that," he admitted, watching her intently and enjoying her heightened edginess, finding himself strangely reassured by it. He felt better knowing he wasn’t alone in his sudden restlessness.

"Why didn't you, anyway?" Buffy suddenly asked.

"What, kill ya?"

Buffy nodded, finally able to look him in the eye, her gaze never wavering, and this time it was Spike who had to look away. "Dunno, really. Just couldn't. I've got all these feeling swirlin' inside of me now," he admitted, missing the look of relief on Buffy's face.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed.

Spike began to pace in front of her, agitation having dug its piercing claws in, and refused to let go. "It's bloody ridiculous, is what. I know I should be killin' ya, trying to rip your throat out, but I soddin' well can't. I just have this urge to... protect you. And it's fucking wrong."

If Spike had been looking at her at that moment, he would have seen the soft smile that had plastered itself on her face. "Yeah? Well, you think that's bad? I get the urge to go all damsel-y when ever you're around," Buffy revealed.

Spike turned hopeful eyes in her direction. "Really?" Then his eyes narrowed as he contemplated her. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

Buffy shook her head, not able to trust her voice at that moment. Spike's face broke out into a genuine smile, one that transformed his face entirely. It softened him, made him more touchable, appear less evil.

"So... what are we going to do about this?" Spike asked finally, breaking the enchantment that had woven around them as they drank each other in.

Ugh. The real world. Not what Buffy really wanted to think about, but hey, she couldn't have anyone accusing her of being a slave to her hormones, could she? Nope. Not when evil was afoot. Especially not when evil was standing right in front of her wearing a tight black tee, and sporting a drop-dead sexy smile. No siree bob. She was the Slayer. It was her job to take care of evil. Yep, so that is what she was going to do. Take care of it.

Spike suddenly found himself with a hundred pounds of Slayer wrapped around him, her lips smashing against his as she pressed herself boldly against his lean frame. 'Ah yeah, nothing better than taking care of evil,' she thought fleetingly, as Spike took the control of the kiss, seeking entry into her mouth. When her lips parted, he thrust his tongue inside, exploring the moist caverns of her mouth. She tasted like power and innocence, all wrapped into one, and he greedily tried to get all he could.

A whimper escaped her mouth at the feelings that were rushing through her. The same ones he had evoked while they had been the Sheriff and the Lady. Except it was different this time. Better. This felt real.

Spike's hands reached down and cupped the globes of her ass, bringing her up against his straining erection. After watching her bum twitch all evening, it was about bloody time he got to put his hands on it. He allowed one hand to travel up, skimming under her shirt and caressing the bare skin of her back.

Evil was nice, Buffy decided. Evil was a good kisser, and evil felt REALLY good against her body. Oh yeah, she liked evil a whole lot, especially if he just kept kissing her.

But, because nothing ever went like she wanted, a voice behind them caused both of them to jump apart. "Is there a line for the kissing booth?"

Bringing her hand up to touch her swollen lips, Buffy looked over at the cocky vampire in a daze. "W-what?"

"Figure I'd wait in line, since you're kissing vampires before you stake them."

Buffy looked at Spike. "Does he think he's funny, or he just really stupid?"

"I think he's just really stupid, luv."

"Oh." In less then thirty seconds, the kiss crasher was nothing more than clump of dust in the grass.

"Did I ever tell you how much that turns me on?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Now, why does this NOT surprise me?" She checked her watch. "I better get home. I don't want mom to find me gone, and go all damage bound."

Spike's face turned serious. "So, luv, we never did decide what to do about... this."

Buffy sighed and turned to face him. "I don't know. Because in case you hadn't notice, we aren't exactly in the running for the most compatible couple. Slayer, vampire. I'm supposed to staking evil, not... kissing it."

It was Spike's turn to heave a telling sigh, as he directed his gaze to the ground. "Don't feel so evil anymore," he mumbled too softly for Buffy to hear.

"Huh?"

"I said, I bloody well don't feel so evil anymore." He met her stunned eyes, and gave her a small embarrassed smile.

"Since when?"

"Bloody hell, Slayer, you know since when."

She let a hopeful smile snake across her face. "Really?"

"Yes, really. What, you think I'd want to be admitting something like that? Vampire here. I like being evil."

"Yeah. Not so much with liking this damsel-y thing either."

"So, again the question. What are we going to do?"

"Oh, I know! Let's do the avoidy thing, and talk about it tomorrow," Buffy suggested with a perky smile.

Spike's lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Tomorrow, it is."

"Ok, then, tomorrow. So, this is me going home. Night." Buffy turned to walk away, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw herself back into his arms. His nice muscular arms that felt just right wrapped around her. She stopped after taking a few steps, and looked over her shoulder. "Don't kill anyone, ok?"

An unreadable look shadowed his face. "Haven't killed anyone since that night, pet."

"Because of me?"

A wry smile crept over his face. "No. The soddin' sheriff, is why. He's corrupted my brain with his do-gooder way."

Buffy's smile lit him up inside. "Good," she responded, then fled into the night.

tbc..

Chapter 5

Buffy stomped into her first class in a majorally pissy mood, thanks to the confrontation with Giles first thing that morning. He hadn't even let her say anything, just started in with 'blah blah, evil, blah blah'. Of course her mind had taken a quick side trip immediately at the mention of the word 'evil', and she sadly missed the last half of his rant. Ok, maybe not so much with the sadness, because well, he HAD mentioned... evil.

So after being told she was being irresponsible, stupid, rash, and any other term Giles felt like saddling her poor impressionable, sensitive self with, she was finally dismissed from the library and allowed to go to class. Not a moment too soon either, her thoughts were getting entirely too off topic. Giles had made loud inquiries as to why Spike had spared her life at the club, and why Spike had came to her mother's rescue. Buffy had spent much of the night rehearsing what she hoped to be a logical explanation to Giles. But in the end, she had floundered. All rational explanations flew out of her brain, and all she could reaffirm was, "I'm so not talking about this." Not the best thing to say to Giles, and she knew it wasn't the end of the subject. So not fair. It fell under the heading of her personal life, right? So why couldn't it just stay... personal?

Willow jumped a little when Buffy slammed her books down on the desk she occupied directly across from hers. "Hey... Buffy," Willow greeted hesitantly, taking note of the sour look on her friend's face.

Buffy threw herself into her seat petulantly. "Giles is so stupid."

"Yeah, that's what I've always thought too. What, with all his degrees and stuff," Willow agreed with a high level of insincerity. She took note of severe pout on Buffy's face. "What did he do?"

"Lectured me."

"And that's new... because?"

Buffy flashed her friend a ghost of a smile. "Because he kinda has a point this time."

"Oh." Willow tried to mask the shocked look on her face. For Buffy to voluntarily admit that Giles was right about something... well, it was almost like an apocalyptic event. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No," Buffy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping down in her chest. "Maybe."

"Ok, I'm sensing some major confusion here. What was Giles on you about?"

"Evil," Buffy announced. Ah yes, evil. A dreamy smile slid across her face.

"And that confusing because...?" Willow asked, finding Buffy's demeanor perplexing. "Is that good or bad?"

"Good." Realizing what she'd just admitted, Buffy rapidly back-pedaled. "I mean, bad. Major bad. Oh yes, very, very bad. Bad evil."

"Buffy, is this about what happened at Halloween?"

The deer in the headlights look that Buffy threw her way clued Willow that she was on the right track. "Halloween?" Buffy squeaked. "No way!"

Cordelia sat down at her seat behind Buffy, hearing the tail end of their conversation. "Please. You're so not fooling anyone. Like we're not supposed to notice you walking around all dreamy and secretive? That you won't even talk to Angel?" She tossed her long brown locks back dramatically, and snidely announced, "Poor thing, he's been so lonely. I've been forced to spend time with him at the Bronze. We've been getting to know each other, and wow. We just have so much in common."

Ok, now Willow found herself officially wigged because Buffy didn't even respond to Cordelia's un-veiled barbs. Before Halloween, Buffy was totally aboard the 'Oh Angel' train, now she was acting as if she didn't even care that Cordelia was trying to get her hooks into him. Something was totally up.

"Did you guys have a fight?" Willow found herself asking.

"No." Buffy opened her text book and pretended to look through it.

"Then what?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"And gee, there she goes being little Miss Avoidy Girl. Color me surprised," Cordelia commented with a robust eye roll.

"I don't recall inviting you into this conversation, Miss Buttinski," Buffy tossed over her shoulder.

"Wow, that's soo original."

"Hey!" Willow called. "Come on! Cordy, Buffy's right. Private conversation here. As in, privileged information being shared."

"Fine," Cordelia commented, sitting back in her chair. "But just crown her Miss Evady-ness USA right now. I mean, it's like, major obvious she's got the hots for that bleached bloodsucking bonehead. Any moron can see that."

"Spike?" Willow cried, face echoing her horror. "No way! Tell her, Buffy."

But the look on Buffy's face was a clear indicator that Cordelia's observation was correct. "Buffy? Is it true?" Willow asked.

"Don't wanna talk it. Not gonna talk it."

"Yep, there's mature Buffy talking. " Cordelia pulled out a compact from her purse and inspected her make-up, then she looked up with a snide look. "Oh, here's your tiara, Buff. Thanks for freeing up Mr. Salty Goodness."

Buffy glared over her shoulder at the hand that was extended mockingly towards her, but was saved by the bell, literally. The teacher entered and all conversation was brought to a halt, bringing blessed silence. But the look Willow sent her clearly indicated it was just a brief reprieve, not a total avoidance of the matter.

Buffy spent most of the day dodging her friends and Watcher, something that she hated doing. But the truth was, she just didn't want to talk about it. Because, well, there was absolutely nothing to talk about. Nope. Nothing that included Spike or anything that happened at Halloween. Or afterwards. Well, nothing they needed to know about, because it was none of their business.

After school however, she got cornered and herded into the library, where she groaned the second she walked through those double doors. Willow and Xander practically had to pull her the rest of the way in, kicking and screaming. Yep, there they all were; even Angel, gathered around the research table. By the serious looks they all wore, Buffy knew she was in for a whole world of intervention. She couldn't look at Angel, he had that hurt puppy dog look on his face that she used to think was sweet. But now it just plain annoyed her. 'Get over yourself,' she wanted to scream at him, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Ok, so maybe she HAD been ignoring Angel lately. What was the big? It's not like they were made for each other or anything.

"Ok, you guys. What part of 'not want to talk about it' does everybody NOT understand?"

Giles ripped off his glasses in frustration. "Buffy, surely you can see that this isn't something we can just simply ignore."

Xander grabbed a bag of chips from the table, opening them noisily. "Yeah, Buffsters. You just haven't been the same since that costume caper."

Buffy bit back a heavy sigh, knowing there was no way she could waffle through this. "Fine. Everyone wants to know why Spike didn't kill me? And why he saved my mom? Is that it? Is that why you are all here?" She looked around the room, seeing the expectant eyes and felt like growling with frustration. She so didn't want to do this. Why did everyone always butt their big asses into her business? It wasn't fair, just because she was the Slayer. "Fine, here's why. That costume caper, as you called it, left us not hating each other the way we used to. Ok? That's all it is. It's no big."

"That means... what, exactly?" Giles inquired.

Buffy gave a small cry of annoyance and got up to pace the room. "It means this, and only this. He looks at me, he doesn't see me as just the Slayer anymore. I look at him, I don't see him as just a vampire anymore. As a result, we don't have the urge to kill each other like we used to. Don't know why it is, but it's not hurting anyone, so can we PLEASE just drop it?"

When Xander opened his mouth to protest, Buffy felt her face harden with resolve. "I said drop it, Xander. I mean it, so not going to talk about it anymore." Buffy looked at each of her friends, steeling herself against the hurt in Angel's eyes, then looked at her Watcher pleadingly. "It's all right, Giles, really."

"I certainly hope so, Buffy." Giles voice was terse as he and Angel exchanged looks, and Buffy felt her temper flare.

"Why can't you just be grateful I have one less enemy trying to kill me? One enemy who very well could have gotten the job done? If we weren't feeling this way, you'd have one dead Slayer on your hands right now. Would that be better?" At Giles and Angel's shocked looks, Buffy continued her rant, "Then why does it always have to be turned into some sinister event? Why can't you just trust me to know what I'm doing for once?"

Some of the tension left Giles' face. "I suppose you're right, Buffy. I guess there is nothing else to do than... trust your judgment on this matter."

Buffy looked at Giles suspiciously. This was way too easy. "Ok, what gives?"

An unreadable look settled over Giles's usually reserved face, causing Xander to give a hoot of laughter. "Oh, did wittle Joycey Summers scare the big bad Watcher?" he asked in a mockery of baby talk.

"I do not wish to speak of it," Giles announced primly, confirming that it was indeed so, and Buffy smiled with delight. Way to go mom.

On their way out of the library, Buffy was invited to the Bronze that evening. With other more appealing plans afoot, Buffy wanted to say no. But at the slightly wary vibes she was picking up from her friends, she figured she'd better at least make an appearance, then cut out early. Because there was no way she was missing out on those other plans. Uh uh, no way.

After making arrangement, she watched Willow and Xander walk away, and felt her slayer sense fire. Buffy whipped around to see Angel exiting the library door. They stared at each other, pain and concern warring on his face. Buffy had to suppress a sudden attack of giggles when she remembered her mom's off handed comment of the night before, saying that with Angel's coarse facial bone structure, he could have played the starring role in Iceman.

"You can't trust Spike."

Buffy wasn't quick enough to suppress the reflexive eye roll, and she watched Angel's face blacken with anger. "I'm serious, Buffy. You don't know him like I do."

Putting her fisted hands on her hips, she faced the vampire who had previously evoked such an intense feeling in her, that she felt as if she would die if he didn't kiss her. Now, he just kinda... paled in comparison to her newer paler version. Taking a deep breath, knowing that of all of them, she owed him the most explanation, she tried to make sense of things. "Angel, i know it's kinda weird. Believe me, I KNOW. It's kind of hard to explain, but that spell kinda gave us a doggie bag to take home. I still feel a bit... lame."

Angel eyed her curiously, and Buffy noticed that Giles had edged his way into the explanation, and waited for her to continue. "So, that's what it is," she clarified. "I have lame leftovers, and Spike feels..."

"Protective." Angel finished for her in a harsh tone.

"Yeah."

Angel punched the locker in front of him, denting in the metal door like it was an aluminum can, causing Buffy to jump in alarm. When he stalked off down the corridor towards the basement, Buffy called after him in a warning tone, "Don't do anything, Angel. I mean it."

He kept walking, but Buffy knew he heard her. She just hoped he listened. Without looking at Giles, she stalked off in the other direction, leaving Giles to head to his office and his private stash of scotch in the locked bottom drawer of his office.

Buffy had been on pins and needles all afternoon. She hated feeling like this, this spastic sense of anticipation. It was... irritating. She hated the fact that she had spent hours agonizing over what to wear, because it wasn't like she and Spike had made any concrete plans the night before, or anything. She didn't even know WHEN she'd be seeing him.

Ok dammit, she admitted it. So, she was nervous. Yeah, maybe she had been trying to deny it while she had been primping. But her edginess kind of smacked her upside the head when she had spastically dropped almost every item of make up she owned, trying to get herself all pretty. God, not even her first encounters with Angel had made her feel like this, and she had thought those were pretty nerve wrecking events, those "what if" scenarios. Briefly, she wondered if Spike had thought about her at all today, then shrugged it off. Nah. This was most definitely one of those totally lame teenage crush thingies, not something vampires who were over a hundred years old went through. Spike had over a century of dealing with sex and relationships. Ok, probably just relationship. As in, the singular. Somehow, she had a feeling he hadn't been paralyzed with that whole wandering penis syndrome when it came to Drusilla.

Ugh. Drusilla. Buffy was glad she had left town after that whole Angel playground thing. Even though she was a crazy lunatic of a ho douche-bag, she still made Buffy feel... young and unsophisticated. The psychotic bitch.

Giving herself a wry shake of the head, she practically laughed aloud at herself. Here she was, a vampire's worst nightmare, worrying over whether or not she was sophisticated enough for a vampire. Especially a vampire who hadn't changed his look for a few decades. She was way beyond whacked, there was no denying it.

Looking at the clock by her bedside, she saw it was past time to leave for the Bronze. With her heart taking a bold leap into her stomach leaving a swirling world of heebie jeebies in its wake, Buffy took one last considering glance in the mirror. Grabbing a Kleenex, she wiped off the slut red lipstick she had carefully painted her lips with. 'No slut red for Buffy,' she decided, and grabbed the pink she usually wore.

It wasn't like she expected to see Spike until later anyway, so what was with this major freakage? Even if she did see him, it was no big, right? Trying to keep that thought firmly in place, she turned around and forced herself out the door. But her stupid legs would have none of that, and ran back for her 'I'm a Huge Slut Bag, Ask Me How' lipstick before they would finally move her ass out the door.

When Buffy got to the Bronze, she found Xander and Willow waiting at their usual table. She cringed when she noticed Cordelia, her carefully made up face settled into a barely tolerant grimace, sitting next to Willow.

"Hey guys!" she greeted brightly, pulling out the chair next to Willow and plopping herself down.

"Well, don't you just look nice and gothic trashy," Cordelia commented, eyeing Buffy's black silk halter top and black leather pants with utter distaste.

"Gee, Cordelia, it's really good to see you too. As in, not really."

Cordelia shrugged, one spaghetti strap of her filmy designer dress sliding provocatively down one shoulder. "I want to see Angel, and I figure hanging with you losers is the best way to accomplish that."

A flurry of panic gripped Buffy, and she turned wide eyes in Willow's direction. "Is Angel coming?"

"Shockingly, I think we will not be treated to Dead Boy's presence this evening," Xander answered, then eyed Cordelia with a look of aversion. "Yet someone refuses to accept that, subjecting us to her vile company."

"It's only fair that I spread myself around." Cordelia dug out her compact out of her purse, once again inspecting her already flawless make-up.

Willow leaned over to whisper in Buffy's ear. "Thank god you're here. They've been really cranky tonight."

Buffy offered her friend a smile, casually looking around. The Bronze was crowded, a typical occurrence for a weekend night in a town such as Sunnydale, that didn't offer much else in the way of youthful pursuits.

"So, Buffsters, what's with this residual thing from Halloween?" Xander's tone was friendly, but Buffy couldn't help but look at him with caution.

"Xander! Didn't you hear her say she didn't want to talk about it? I don't want her to go, don't make her do that thing where she goes!" Willow turned to Buffy. "Don't go, Xander didn't mean it." The redhead turned back to glare at her friend.

"Well, if he didn't, I'll just ask, because I want to know." Cordelia's face hadn't twitched from the bored mask she had assumed earlier.

Buffy bit back an annoyed sigh. Was this so surprising? Uh, not so much. Why? Because she was Buffy, therefore her life was an open book, and would always remain as such. That's all she was. A book. One to be opened at anytime. Her life sucked.

"Fine. I have a little residual stuff from Halloween. Don't you?"

Xander's eyes grew wide. "Me?"

"Yeah, hello, Mr. GI Joe Was There."

Xander pondered that thought for a second before he busted out with a wide grin. "Well, sweet fancy picante sauce, I guess I do! I hadn't really thought about it." He closed his eyes and mimed dismantling a rifle, his movements quickly assured and self-confident. "YES!!"

"Yippee." Cordelia's voice was flat and bored.

When Xander opened his mouth to respond, Willow cut him off by grabbing his arm. "Oooh! I love this song. Come on, Xander, let's go do the dancing thing."

Xander allowed himself to be hauled out of his seat and turned to follow Willow. "Come on, Buff-aroni."

"I think I'll sit this one out. I'm kinda parched, think I'll go get some liquid refreshment."

"Right! Because we are in a parch free zone, and everything," Willow commented.

Cordelia got to her feet. "Ugh, you losers are so lame. If you see Angel, tell him I'll be back in a little while."

"We'll be right on that, sure thing." Xander had a completely innocent look on his face, but his voice dripped with false insincerity.

Buffy watched her friends hit the dance floor, and Cordelia storm away, and she slumped down low into her chair. Then she got that tingle in the back of her neck, and her heart sped up with anticipation. Vampire. And she was pretty sure it was her vampire. No, not pretty sure, she was damn sure.

TBC...

Chapter 6 or OMG is this fic EVER going to end???

a/n-This chapter is dedicated to Babysquid and BlueIrish, because this goes back to the Oakland con. They know, and yes, it is finally THAT chapter, babysquid. MUCHO thanks to Beanmommy for being my plot guidance counselor!!! Thanks sweets!!

Buffy watched her friends hit the dance floor while Cordelia stormed away, and she slumped down low into her chair. Then she got that tingle in the back of her neck, and her heart sped up with anticipation. Vampire. And she was pretty sure it was her vampire. No, not pretty sure, she was damn sure.

Before she could even cast a nervous glance around the Bronze, he was there. As in, right there, so close she could smell the hint of cigarettes, the fruity scent of whatever hair gunk he always slathered in his hair, and just HIM. She could feel her body come alive at their close proximity, her every nerve ending reaching out for him, almost as if her body was calling out for him in some weird freaky way. Wow, that was new.

Her eyes did a quick perusal of his body, sliding over the open ranges of black clad hard muscle, and her body shouted with glee. Why, hello Spike, it said. Yep, she could hear it all right. She finally dragged her gaze away from the way his pectorals were so deliciously defined under his tight t-shirt and met his eyes, her lips instinctively curling up into a coy smile.

"Hi." Her voice came out throatier than she had anticipated, and she could see the swift reaction, as Spike's eyes darkened heatedly. He took a step closer, and her breath suddenly hitched in her chest, causing a broad smirk to grace Spike's angular face. The feeling of anticipation grew as they stood regarding each other once more, both feeling a keen sense of familiarity in this situation.

Spike's trademark smirk changed to a lazy grin, and Buffy watched as his hand came up and reached towards his head in a familiar gesture, then couldn't help the peals of giggles that erupted at the look of disgust and shock on his face as he stared at his treacherous hand.

"S'not bloody funny." But it really was, and Buffy couldn't help the continuing laughter. Spike shook his head ruefully and threw himself in the seat next to her. "I'm ruined."

Buffy sat back down, her smile bright and affectionate. "Nah."

He gave her a look of disgust. "I just bloody tried to tip my hat at you, Slayer. I think that pretty much wraps things up all tight like, with a nice little bow on top."

"Yeah, but it was sorta sweet. I think I like it better than the 'I'm gonna kill you you.. No, I'm going to kill YOU...' posturing that we usually greet each with."

"Yeah, there is that."

Their eyes met and held, a mutual sense of contentment and acceptance suddenly mirrored. Finally, Buffy gave voice to her one small fear. "Spike... do you think this is all some spell? Do you think all of a sudden, this lingering persona thingie is just going to like, totally bail?"

Spike shrugged. "Dunno, luv. Don't think so."

"But, what if it does? What then?"

Spike leaned close and grabbed her hand under the table. "We'll suss it out if it happens, ok pet?"

Buffy nodded, relieved to have gotten her worry out in the open. She didn't want this to be a spell, dammit, because that just wasn't fair. All right, maybe having a bit of Elizabeth in her was like being a little on the schizophrenic freak train. But hey! It's not like Buffy was in there all alone anyway. Her Slayer had staked down roots too. She was used to having the multiple personality thing. Elizabeth just seemed to... soften her hard edges. That wasn't so bad, was it?

"Oh, for the love of tacos and frijoles!" Xander complained loudly, interrupting her self realization monologue. "Wanna tell me what Sheriff Woody is doing sitting at our table? And better yet, why the good Sheriff isn't being impaled with his namesake?"

Spike flashed a wicked grin in Buffy's direction, and winked, then turned to look at Xander. "You offerin' or just asking?"

Xander's face blanked for just a fraction before disgust rolled over, backing up frantically to get away from the homicidal, potentially homosexual vampire. "Ew! And can I just say again... EW! That is a big NO with the offering!"

Once again, Buffy couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "He's just kidding, Xander."

Xander ceased his frantic flee, and eyed the amused smirking vampire with just mere loathing this time. "And again I ask, what's he doing here?"

Spike narrowed his eyes in the boy's direction. "Just bloody sitting here, having a conversation with the Slayer."

Finding himself unable to come up with a suitable response to that not very evil comment, Xander shot back lamely, "Yeah? So where's your sharp shooters tonight, huh Spike? Did you leave them at home?"

Spike gave him a withering look. "Please. You're one to talk. I wasn't the only one to sport a pistol that night, if you will recall."

"Yeah, but mine was bigger." Xander couldn't help but brag, his hands itching to get themselves on another automatic assault weapon.

An evil grin slid across Spike's face. "Was it now? We talking weapons here or...?"

Xander's face flushed red and his not so witty repertoire of insults seemed to desert him completely. Buffy rolled her eyes and stood up, dragging Spike out of his chair. "Come on, let's go dance."

"Where are you going?"

"Not really thinking I need to repeat myself, Xander." Buffy stood next to Spike, her hand still entwined with his, and they turned towards the dance floor, where a full array of gyrating fools were on display.

Spike suddenly stopped and looked back over his shoulder at Xander and Willow. "I think the Slayer wants to play with my pistol," Spike called back wickedly, earning a heated shove from the girl at his side. Another round of giggles wafted back to Xander, causing him to cringe quite violently.

When they had disappeared behind a wall of people, Xander slumped to his seat while Willow sat with trepidation. "Now, that was beyond freaky."

"You betcha," Willow agreed. "That wasn't like the Spike we know and usually try to kill, at all. He was almost... nice."

"Are you insane?"

Willow took note of the look of outrage on Xander's face, and rushed to say, "Ok, he did make with the seriously disturbing comments and stuff, and that was icky, and all kinds of wrong. But Xander, think about it. There were no threats to kill us, nothing. He was just kinda, jovial. Perverted, yes, but jovial."

"If that's what you want to call it."

They both craned their necks to get a view of what was happening on the dance floor, and Xander allowed a shudder to pass through him. Even though it was a song with a fast beat, Spike had his arms wrapped around Buffy, and there was little space in between them. As in, next to none. Buffy had her arms snaked around his neck, and the side of her face plastered against his chest, and they moved in a slow, sensuous rhythm to the music.

"Please tell me that's just a new method of lulling vampires into a state of false security before they're staked."

"Sorry, Xander. I think... she kinda likes him."

"Well, duh!" Cordelia had returned, and Xander couldn't help the smile of anticipation that stretched over his face, because she had not returned alone. Oh no. The thunderous look on Angel's face was almost worth having had to put up with the sexual innuendos from Spike and then seeing Buffy doing her best velcro impersonation out on the dance floor. Well, almost.

+++++++++++

The weird part was finding such utter contentment just to be in Spike's arms, swaying slowly to the music. Spike wasn't even doing the hot and heavy pelvic grind-age either, even though she could more than feel his erection pressing into her. So Buffy was thinking he was feeling the exact same way. It was just... weird. He had his face buried into the crook of her neck, and there were no alarms being set off at the close proximity of his lethal weapons at her jugular. Instead, it was nice.

"You're not going to go all square dance-y on me, are you?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"You know. All 'dosado, and away we go'?"

She felt him chuckle against the smooth skin of her neck, and it caused an immediate shiver through her. "No Slayer, not inclined to do any type of square or line dancing, if that's what you're worried about."

"Ok good, no hoedowning for Spike. Not that I was really worried, you know. Just with you trying to tip your hat at me earlier, didn't know if there were any other things shouting to come out." They resumed their slow dance. "You know, you could call me by my real name. Don't have to keep calling me 'Slayer' all the time, now that our mortal enemy-ness is down to like, Def-con Zero."

Spike lifted his head lazily from her neck. "Buffy isn't your real name, it it, pet? I know your mom is bloody well off her rocker, but even she wouldn't be that cracked."

Buffy cringed suddenly, then looked at him with steely resolve. "Well, no, it's not. But it is soo what you're going to call me."

He cocked his head to the side in that scrumptious way he seemed to have, tucking his tongue behind his top teeth as he studied her. "Let's hear your real name, pet."

Unable to hold up under the weighty sizzle of his sexy look, she broke. "Fine, it's, uh... Elizabeth."

The smile he gave her broke her some more, and she felt like she was about to do that swooning thing. Well, if swooning entailed your legs growing too weak to support your weight, and your brain growing too dizzy to process rational thought, then ok, yeah. She was definitely doing some major swoon-age.

Luckily, Spike had a firm grip on her. Oh boy, did he ever. Then he said her name with that sweet smile, "Buffy," and she couldn't help but smile back at him. A big, stupid, goofy grin that she couldn't wipe off even if she wanted to, unable to tear herself away from his eyes. She'd never seen them quite like this before and she'd borne witness to quite a few variations. They had flashed derisive, anger, challenging, cocky, gloating and lately, fondness, amusement, passion, desire. But right now, Buffy felt like they were going to consume her, as if she could get lost in them and never want to find her way out. There was more than fondness evident, almost... Buffy felt her breath halt in her chest as she absorbed the full brunt of Spike's emotions. Wow, she always knew Spike had expressive eyes, but this was beyond intense.

"Spike?" Buffy found herself whispering.

"Shhh..." Spike tipped his head down to lightly nibble on her lips. "Don't say anything."

But because she was Buffy, her moment had to be ruined. Spike was torn from her arms, and tossed aside, managing to knock into some people who were less than thrilled. From Swooner to Slayer in one quarter second flat, Buffy rounded on Angel.

"What are you doing???"

"I don't want his hands on you," Angel growled, his droll brown eyes angry and flashing amber. The crowd that had been previously dancing began to forget their boogying pursuits and gathered round. A small chant of "fight.... fight..." began echoing through the dance floor, and Buffy rolled her eyes. Great. Just what she needed; playground mentality.

Buffy could feel Spike right behind her, and she extended one arm back to place a warning hand on his chest. Oohh... nice chest, and she splayed her fingers appreciatively. Then she saw Angel's face begin to morph, and she stalked forward, waving a finger in his face.

"Don't you DARE," she hissed, her tone shocking Angel from completing the transformation.

"FIGHT... FIGHT!!!" The quiet chant was beginning to build in crescendo, as more of the crowd watched in anticipation of seeing some blows thrown, and quite possibly some blood spilled. Buffy could see bouncers headed their way, and threw Angel a dark look, then grabbed Spike's hand and dragged him off the dance floor. There were groans of disappointment flung in their wake, then dancing reclaimed their attention, and the potential bloodshed was all but forgotten.

Buffy could feel gleeful excitement pouring off of Spike, who was practically bouncing with each step he took. They passed by an equally anticipatory Xander, an indifferent Cordelia, and a nervous Willow, and Buffy didn't even bother to spare them a glance. Her entire goal here was to avoid a confrontation, especially a public confrontation, because those were always hard to cover up, no matter how stupid the people of Sunnydale continually proved themselves to be.

She pulled Spike into the alleyway behind the Bronze, then turned in expectation when Angel stormed through the door. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, her posture clearly indicating her displeasure. "Are you insane? Going all Grrr in the middle of the Bronze?"

Angel had the good sense to look slightly chagrined. "Didn't mean to do that."

"Well, then WHAT were you doing?"

Annoying brown eyes tried to lock their woebegone puppy dog look on her, and Buffy let out a small sigh of annoyance. "Angel, I thought we had covered this earlier today."

"You can't trust him."

Spike had been content to just sit and watch as his girl went to battle for him, but at that statement, undefined resentment flared. "That's a bunch of bloody rot, Angelus."

As if Spike never spoke, Angel proceeded to make his case to Buffy. "This is all some spell, can't you see that? It's not real, the only thing he really feels for you is seething hatred and the urge to end your life. I know him, Buffy."

Suddenly, Angel found himself pinned to the wall behind him, Spike holding him in place easily. Spike stared deep into his grande-sire's eyes, letting him read exactly what he felt, exactly what was going on, and relaxed his hold when he felt Angel sag against the wall. "Fuck," Angel muttered, admitting defeat.

"Got that bleedin' right." Spike let Angel go and crossed to Buffy, grabbing her hand.

"Ok, was that some weird vampire thingie?"

"Yeah, luv. It was."

"Oh. Ok." She cast a nervous glance from Angel, who hadn't looked up from his perusal of the ground, back to Spike. She didn't know what had occurred, but she had a feeling it had been something kinda on the monumental side. "So, uh... now what?"

"I've had enough of this joint. Let's blow this place."

Nervousness swept through, swift and fierce, but found herself nodding in agreement. "Ok." A grin plastered itself on her face when he gallantly offered his arm, and there was no hesitation in hooking her arm through. Ahhh, this was nice. She always seemed to feel better when she was touching him, for some reason.

When they had left, Xander turned to Angel and expressed his bitter frustration. "What the hell was that? Not only is Spike not a stake sandwich, but you also let Buffy leave with him!"

Angel's soulful eyes had transcended to an even further bleak level. "He's not going to hurt her."

The dumbfounded look that appeared on Xander's face was comical. Well, almost. "Excuse me? I could have sworn you just let Buffy leave with a killer. Oh wait! Color my ass totally surprised. Not just a killer, but her #1 fan AND president of the 'I Want you so Dead' fan club!! What do you mean he won't hurt her?"

Cordelia came up and wrapped her arms around Angel's unyielding bicep, not even caring that he didn't even seem to notice her touch. "What's the big? It's not like she isn't the slayer or anything. She can just, like, kick his ass if he tries anything."

Willow stepped up. "That's not the point. Spike has her completely vulnerable right now. She trusts him. He could easily kill her at any moment, and the worst thing is, I don't think she'd do that fighting back thing."

"I told you, he won't hurt her." Angel's voice was resigned but emphatic, and Willow looked at him with suspicion. "Look, do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Well yeah, kinda believe in everything now, living on the Hellmouth and everything," Willow replied. Then, as the implications of Angel's question set in, her eyes grew wide. "No..... They aren't..., are they? Oh my goddess! Wow, and suddenly everything is making a whole lot of sense. Are you sure?" Angel nodded gravely.

"What?" Xander asked plaintively.

"Reincarnation, Xander."

"What about it?"

"They were together before." Angel injected.

"Spike and Buffy?"

"No, you idiot, and a poorly dressed one at that; their costumed selves," Cordelia answered in a scathing tone, but secretly finding it slightly romantic. She looked up at the rigid set of Angel's protruding jaw, and hugged his arm just a fraction tighter.

Shock shone on Xander's face. "Really?"

Angel nodded.

"Uh... How do you know, Angel?" Willow asked, curious to the 'vampire thingie' that had transpired.

"Because I could sense him."

"Spike?" Xander asked.

"No! Willie! The sheriff!" Willow cried, then looked to Angel for confirmation. "Right?"

Angel's tight curt nod was all the confirmation needed. "So, they're like star crossed lovers who were destined to find each other again?"

The tight dark look on Angel's face intensified, which was telling in itself. "Awwww.... that's kinda sweet." Willow announced dreamily.

"Yeah, especially when one of them is a homicidal bloodsucker." Cordelia's face was taut with distaste, and she didn't notice Angel's flinch.

"Yeah, so glad you're lobbed on to one of those, Cordy," Xander announced.

"Ooookeeeee, who else is thinking we need to take this to Giles?" Willow posed, eager to dispel the bickering, especially when she took note of Angel's rigid posture and Cordelia's clueless routine. This was about to escalate beyond the realm of ugly, pretty darn quick. And she soooo didn't even want to be thinking of what Spike and Buffy were talking about right now. She had a feeling Buffy didn't quite know what the haps were, but that Spike had full disclosure. And she sure didn't want to think of what they might be... doing, either.

tbc