Chapter Three: Play to Win

About an hour later, Buffy tied her hair into a ponytail. "Sure you're up to this?" she teased him.

Spike glared at her and snorted. "I think the question is are you, pet?"

"For you, 'm always ready Spike." she stretched, warming up.

"That so, luv?" Spike gave her his stealthy, snarky grin. His eyes twinkled with repressed energy. " Reckon that’s why you’ve staked me already, eh?" He winked.

"I'm just waiting for the right moment. Like to watch you squirm," Buffy crossed her arms, playing her role.

"Mmmhmmm," Spike murmured, studying her. "Like to watch you do things too, pet..." he licked his lips provocatively. He slinked around her in circular motion, as if studying potential prey.

Her eyes followed him, watching his every move, from the slight bend in his knees to the minor elevation in his arms for balance, to his poised position on the balls of his feet. She remained silent, as his eyes slid over her like fire. She pulled a stake from her sleeve, eyes never leaving his as she did.

"Well now, looks like you've got your weapon," Spike smiled, eyes widening, totally enjoying the moment. He put on his game face. "And I've got mine..." he stopped circling.

"What are we waiting for, then?" Buffy raised her brows, wondering why he hadn’t done anything yet.

He grinned at her question. “What am I waiting for?” He paused in his movements and stood rigid, in a position to be completely unable to attack, looking thoughtful. “Hmmm…what am I waiting for? Well, you’re the Slayer, what are you waiting for?” he baited, putting his hands in his pockets, as if searching for his gum.

She looked somewhat indignant at his remark. And shifted her wait to the side, hands on hips. “Oh I don’t know, I thought I’d let you get the first hit in, so your man pride isn’t that injured when I kick your ass.”

“Oh, baby likes to play, does she?” he asked, highly amused. “Well pet, did it ever occur to you, that what I was really waiting for, was you to let your guard down?” he announced, leaping at her and ducking under her defenses once he knew she was in no position to avoid his attack. He ducked under an ill-timed, perhaps halfhearted swipe at his person. His arms quickly encircled her waist and he swung himself behind her with that animalistic grace that belonged to both he and her, and bent his fangs towards her neck. “A bit slow tonight, honey?” he rumbled seductively, mouth poised inches from the blood he could hear pumping rapidly beneath the surface.

She leaned back against him, stake in hand forgotten. “Maybe I wanted to be a little slow,” she responded coquettishly as his features returned to human and he placed a soft kiss on the side of her throat.

“Mmm, minx,” he muttered against her skin. “You know, I’d much rather be kissing you than fighting you.”

“I know,” she responded. And with a sudden shift of her weight, she threw Spike over her shoulder, onto the floor in front of her, and planted a shoe daintily on his chest. She smiled down at him triumphantly. “Little slow tonight, sweetie?”

He grinned up at her. “That’s my girl.”

“Who knew you went for the dominatrix thing?” she joked, helping him up off the floor. “Oh wait, I did.”

He growled playfully. “Tease.”

“Hey, no fair using the cute growlies,” she warned, hearing him. “We’re supposed to be training. Making me all jello-y is an unfair advantage. And Giles is in the next room!”

He charged her and threw a punch, which she easily ducked. “You know I go straight for the kill, babe.”

“Funny how you keep losing though, isn’t it?” she quipped back, neatly executing a cross combination with her arms, though the face of her palm only struck thin air. The distinctive “whoosh” of Spike’s duster told her that he’d slipped behind her again, and she spun a rapid kick off her right leg and struck with the left. He leaned backwards six inches to avoid it, and sprung back into position once it had passed, going in to sweep low with his legs while she was slightly off balance from her miss.

“Only keep losing so as not to destroy your fragile confidence Slayer, thought you knew that,” he responded conversationally, as she fell from his well-executed blow.

She grunted when she hit the mat face first, but rolled quickly left to avoid the next hit. Springing to her feet, the Slayer turned and struck out, fist coming in contact with hard (distractingly familiar) pectoral muscles. Spike staggered backwards a bit and she pressed the advantage. “Yeah, so you keep telling yourself,” she snorted, throwing a hook punch to his left side, which he blocked bodily by throwing up his forearms. She led with the other hand to counter, but this time he caught it, hands clutching her at the wrist and forearm, rendering the arm helpless. He gave a circular pull downward and she felt herself being yanked forward. Shifting her weight, she put her feet in front of her and turned the fall into a flip. Once she’d regained her equilibrium she threw her free arm backwards with enough force to throw the vampire off balance. With her back still facing him, she threw and elbow into his stomach. He moved backwards again, but recovered more speedily than she would have thought.

He flipped over her and executed a perfect spin kick into her right shoulder, and she grunted in surprise. “Don’t need to keep tellin’ myself when I know,” he stated, picking up the dialogue again easily, as if they were in her living room, talking conversationally with one another on the couch. “I mean really, Slayer, you know I’m bloody good.”

“Bloody full of it, more like it,” she grunted in response, feigning left before delivering a partial uppercut to his stomach with her right hand. He flew backwards and landed on his back, chuckling at the same time.

“That’s why you love me, baby,” he laughed, springing up in classic martial arts fashion.

“And that’s also why I’m going to kick your ass,” she zinged back, playfully, breathing heavily yet feeling rejuvenated from their excursions.

“You sure talk a lot, Slayer. Not much for action though, from what I’ve seen,” he teased.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll show you action, buddy.” She pushed towards him, throwing the fastest, strongest series of punches she could, alternating elbows with fists with palms. He dodged and blocked most, exhilarated and unbelievably turned on by her physical prowess.

“Not bad, Slayer. But you’re still doin’ one thing wrong.”

She never ceased her attack. “What’s…that?”

“You press when you don’t have an advantage,” he revealed, sliding his entire body sideways as she threw herself forward. Grabbing an arm extended by punching while he dodged, he twisted it behind her and used his other hand to pin her free arm to her side. “And… you talk too much.” His game face descended and he nicked the side of her neck shallowly with a fang. “You lose, tonight.”

She was about to object to his questionable use of fangs, but all annoyances subsided when she felt his tongue gently lap up the thin rivulet of red liquid he had drawn from her throat. “Been a weird day,” she excused lamely.

“Uh huh. Something happen at the mall, pet?”

“I’m just worried about Dawn. She’s still at the movies,” Buffy revealed. “With friends. And no one watching out for her.”

Spike chuckled a little. “Knew you were thinkin’ on somethin’. Or you wouldn’t have let me get that first sweep in so early in the game.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Like Poofy in a Gap store, luv. Why so worried ‘bout Nip? She’s got a good head on her shoulders. An’ she promised she’d be back at 10:00 sharp.”

“I don’t know.” Buffy walked over to the cabinet and withdrew a towel, wiping off her arms and neck. “It’s Dawn. I’m nervous whenever she’s out without me. Hell god or no hell god present.” She paused thoughtfully. “Oh don’t even pretend you’re not, Mister. I know you are. Or you would have totally read that feint and dodged the uppercut,” she pointed out.

He raised his hands defensively. “I’m not worried. Well, maybe a bit, but not much.”

“And why not?”

Spike shrugged. “Cause whelp and ex-demon were goin’ to the theater tonight. Probably went to see the same over-hyped movie.”

“They are?”

He nodded.

“You knew this?”

He nodded again.

“Oh, so unfair advantage,” she griped. “If I’d have known, I totally would have been concentrating more.”

“And here I thought my seductive charm and dashing good looks had you all in a knot,” he stated, arching an eyebrow fiendishly.

She snorted. “Not even.”

He feigned hurt. “Not even a bit?”

“Nope.”

“Little?”

“Huh uh.”

“Tiny bit?”

She grinned. “Maybe.”

He turned triumphant. “Knew it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not…”

“Ahem…”

Both Slayer and vampire turned at the sound of Giles clearing his throat. “Are you done training, already?” the Watcher asked, looking from one to the other expectantly. “Because if you are, I’d suggest the two of you go on patrol before you kill us all with your not so witty banter,” he drawled dryly, though there was humor behind his eyes.

“Who crawled up your pants today, Watcher Boy?” Spike asked conversationally, plopping down on the couch lazily.

“Anya and inventory, if you must know.”

Buffy and even Spike looked sympathetic at that statement. “No worries Giles, we’re heading for patrol right now.”

“Goin’ to Willy’s, see if we can’t get a heads up on whomever decided to make a vamp of Messy last night,” Spike explained. He smirked. “Been too bloody long since I got to see that weasel squirm in my grasp.”

“Spike,” Buffy warned.

He sighed. “Right. I’ll be a good lil Scooby, pet,” he promised, holding up his hand in a poorly postured imitation of the Boy Scout’s salute.

Buffy scoffed. “Where did you even learn that?”

“Oh, who bloody doesn’t know it? Poofy doesn’t count.”

The Slayer rolled her eyes and headed to the weapons cabinet. “You know, I think you have some obvious insecurity issues with Angel.”

“Or I just like makin’ fun of him.”

“Or that. But I’m leaning more towards the former. You know, my psych professor says that patriarch issues spring from a…”

“Oh please. If I had patriarch issues I’d have killed him long ago. He’s just fun to poke’n prod. Too slow to say anythin’ witty, too bad tempered to do anything impressive,” Spike snorted derisively.

Giles watched the banter with a slightly defeated, amused look and leaned against the doorway leading into the front of the shop. Xander had been absolutely right that one day he’d overheard the boy talking with the group while doing research. Those two were so obvious. He just wondered when Buffy would have the courtesy to come out and tell him about her relationship with William the Formerly Bloody. Until then, he figured he’d let those continue to stomp on the eggshells they so cleverly thought they were tiptoeing upon when in his presence. “Children please, behave,” Giles chastised, as the argument shifted to the issue of whether Angel copied Spike or vise versa on the duster look.

Spike turned, indignant. “Children? I could be your bloody grandfather, Rupert.”

“Thankfully not…” Giles drawled, and then purposely lowered his voice so neither could hear him. “…or you doing whatever sordid thing you’re doing with Buffy would be considered incest.” He shook his head and raised his tone once again. “Well, good luck tonight, be careful, and I’ll check in with Dawn later, when she’s supposed to be back.”

Buffy smiled. “Thanks, Giles.” And yanked Spike out the back door.

“I’ll have her back by 1 o’clock, da!” Spike called back, in that annoyingly impudent tone he liked to use when he thought he was one up on someone.

Giles sighed and returned to the restock orders he currently had piled on the counter of the Magic Box. “Da, indeed,” he muttered. “I knew I should have staked him when I had the chance.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You want to be good cop or bad cop?” Buffy asked as they strolled hand in hand towards the direction of Sunnydale’s seedy side. “Cuz personally, I think I make a better bad cop than you.”

Spike scoffed. “Cha, you would. Except for the whole little blonde girl thing,” he drawled. “I’m ten times the bad cop you are.”

“Only because you’re ten times uglier,” Buffy responded instantaneously. “Fine, you be bad cop.”

“And you twirl your hair ‘round your finger an’ pop your gum on the sidelines,” Spike agreed.

She slugged him in the arm. “Stereotype much?”

He rubbed at the place she’d struck him with his free arm and feigned a dour look. “Like you aren’t askin’ for it, pet. Your name is Buffy, you’re blonde, you live in California, and you were a cheerleader. If you’re objectin’ to the stereotype all I can say is that it’s your own bloody fault.”

She glared at him. “Bite me.”

“Is that an offer for dinner, luv?”

She made a face. “I totally walked into that one, didn’t I?”

He nodded sadly and squeezed her hand in his own. “’Fraid so. You must really be off your game if you let me beat you physically and verbally all in one night.”

“I just felt bad ‘cause you normally NEVER win.”

“Pfft. Like it’s ever made you feel bad before,” he snorted, absently tracing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb as they bickered.

She laid her head on his shoulder. “What kind of a girlfriend would I be if I didn’t occasionally feel bad for constantly kicking your ass?”

“Erm…the regular Buffy kind?”
She elbowed him. “I’ll respond to that later. But we’re here. So…”

He nodded, and furrowed his brow, feigning seriousness. “Right. All business, then.”

They stopped at the entrance to Willy’s, the bar as per usual, looking and smelling less than inviting. Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Is it just me or does this place get slimier and slimier every time we visit it?”

“It’s not you, luv, it’s the clientele,” Spike quipped, pushing the door open. “Got enough slime between ‘em to keep Angel’s hair slicked back for the next 250 years…”

She rolled her eyes. “Patriarch issues,” she echoed, stepping in ahead of him.

Somewhere between the outside world and the door, flirtatious, teasing Buffy became all business, bad ass Slayer. It was a marvel to behold, and Spike found himself forgetful of the fact that he was supposed to undergo a similar transformation as they entered the alternate universe that was Willy’s. Instead he marveled at how the girl he’d seen giggle herself silly over some prat in a chick flick last week proceeded to make every head, demon, human, or multiple, turn towards her the second she crossed the threshold. He observed the uncomfortable silence that fell over the room like a blanket, effectively smoldering conversation and action all together, save for the occasional, involuntary drip of slime from one of the bar patron’s overactive pores.

Willy looked up from trying (in vain) to wipe a spot from the inside of a glass with his greasy rag as his establishment fell into a sort of tense haze. He sighed inwardly, knowing that it was either Buffy, Spike or… he squinted into the shadows… even better; both. He tried not to look as nervous as he felt. “Uh… Slayer… hi. And Spike. Fancy seeing you both here, you know, at the same time.”

Hearing the sound of the weasel’s voice was enough to shake Spike out of the little trance he’d put himself into while watching his woman work, and with a little toss of his head to clear it, he stepped out from where he’d stopped in the doorway and followed Buffy up towards the bar, eyes dark and dangerous.

“Willy…” Buffy greeted with a curt nod of her head. She placed her elbows on the bar, but made a face as the demon next to her took a puff on its cigarette.

Spike growled in his throat, remembering a statement not so long ago about how those were detrimental to the health of humans. And how they tended to shorten one’s life if one was within close proximity to them. Sidling up to the smoking demon, the vampire tapped it on one the rotting brown horns that grew along its shoulder.

It looked up and grunted something at him in its own language, which he could only partially decipher. Spike decided it had said, “What do you want?” or something to that effect, but in actuality, there had probably been a rude monomer placed at the end of the statement, though whether it was against his mother’s virtue or the sanctity of his birth, he wasn’t sure.

“I think the lady would appreciate it if you put that out.” The vampire gestured to the cigarette.

The demon glared at Spike and took the cigarette out of its mouth. However, instead of putting it out, like the vampire had so politely asked it to do, the thing puffed errantly in Buffy’s direction and stuck the smoke back into his mouth.

Buffy made a face, but generally ignored the demon and turned back to Willy. Spike growled. He’d been polite… hadn’t he? Deciding that it was time he put the blasted thing out himself, he grasped the back of the demon’s head in one lightning fast moment and shoved its head face first into the bar. The pressure effectively stomped out the cigarette, though unfortunately (well, not really) the force of the vampire’s blow caused the distinct snap of broken facial bones and crunching cartilage sound throughout the silent bar. The vampire felt flesh bruise as blood vessels ruptured under the pressure of his hand, and he took great delight in the grating sounds the gurgling demon made as he continued downward force, making a sweeping motion from left to right with his wrist to add to the pain out of pure spite. Spike grinned and allowed demon’s head to come back up, where his victim murmured incoherently, dazed and in pain. “Thanks mate,” he grinned, plucking the destroyed cigarette out of his adversary’s mouth and tossing it into a nearby ashtray. “Right then, business.”

Buffy held back the giggle that threatened to escape her throat by coughing. “So, Willy. We heard from a fledgling last night that there’s actually organized sire-age going on.”

Willy resumed, with apt fascination, his attempts to remove that spot from the mug. “Vamps get sired all the time in Sunnydale. Hellmouth, remember?”

Spike growled. “Don’t like dumb people who think they have smart mouths, weasel. I suggest you answer the lady’s query.”

Willy took the chance to sneer at Spike from behind the. “Or you’ll what? Concussion me to death?”

One second later, the bar owner found himself dangling on the other side of the bar, about a foot off the ground by the collar of his shirt, gasping for air. His mind did flash on the irony of the fact that the one time he attempted to have some spine it completely backfired. “You…you’re not supposed to…” he managed to wheeze out, as Spike morphed into demon form.

“Got that little problem fixed up, Willy my friend. In a bit of a mood to see how far my lady friend here, will let me take it.”

Willy looked to Buffy, who had seated herself primly on one of the bar stools, next to the demon who was still clutching his broken face. She looked bored. “Aren’t you… supposed to…protect humans?” the small man barked desperately.

“Nothing in the Slayer handbook bout her havin’ to protect rats,” Spike pointed out, wickedly demonic smile on his face. “So… you know anything, or do I get to have a bit of a snack after all?”

“He’d hardly be two bites,” Buffy chimed in with an overdramatic sigh, looking from Spike to Willy.

“I think I could nip three out of him, what do you think, pet?”

“I think…that he’d better say something before I take you up on that wager.”

Willy choked, and grasped at Spike’s forearms in an attempt to gain some leverage and hopefully, some oxygen. The vampire growled the second the human’s oily hands came in contact with his leather, and dropped his potential meal with a disgusted thud.

Buffy studied Willy while he lay on the floor gasping, clutching an injured throat. She supposed he looked properly cowed. “So… sire-age. Your memory get jogged a little?” she asked conversationally, cocking her head to the side and regarding the barkeep with a look that was disinterested and at the same time, deadly.

Willy wheezed and pulled himself to his feet. “I ah… I haven’t heard much…but ah…” he paused to swallow gingerly and rub at his throat with his hand. “Heard from some of the fledglings that one of the older one’s has moved in. Wants to be master of the hellmouth.”

“Great, more ambitious vamps,” Buffy sighed. “Do we get a name?”

“I don’t know.”

Spike growled and advanced on Willy again, ready to drain it out of the man if he had to. Buffy stopped him with a sharp look. “He’s telling the truth.”

Spike’s eyebrow rose a fraction. “Sure?” he asked.

She nodded. “He knows better than to lie to us, don’t you, Willy?” she turned to the snitch and gave her most icily pleasant smile.

“Yeah, of course, Slayer. You know me.”

“I do know you. And I’ll bet the second you get more information, you’ll come right over and tell us about it, so we don’t have to come and mess up business here again, right?” She still used that sweet, annoyingly perky tone. Spike grinned inwardly. She could be wicked when she wanted to be.

“Yeah. I’ll call you right up, I find out anything new.”

“Good. You do that,” Spike agreed, eyes flashing gold. “We’ll be off then.” He reached over and straightened Willy’s collar, giving the small man a particularly nasty look. “Nice talking to you, Willy. Old times,” he chortled.

Buffy rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and led him back outside. “Well, that was a bust.”

Spike shrugged. “New Master? We’ll hear of ‘em soon enough, I figure.”

“Well, I’d like to do it before a whole lot more people died.”

“Guess there’s always that.” Spike looked thoughtful. “Maybe the Wiccas could conjure us up a hand?”

Buffy made a face.

Spike rolled his eyes. “No, not an actual hand, you nit. The help kind of hand.”

“Oh. Sorry, bad Mummy hand memories.” She paused. “Well, we could ask them to help I guess.” She cocked her head to the side as her hand found his and she entwined their fingers. “Have you noticed…”

“Underlying tension ‘tween the lovers?” Spike finished her thought, looking at her. She seemed almost surprised, but then remembered that Spike was the one vampire in the world attuned to the human psyche.

“Yeah. Most of the time they’re okay. Then sometimes, it just seems…weird.”

“Well, can’t always have a smooth ride in love, I reckon.”

She stopped. “So you’re saying there’s going to be trouble for us?”

He made a face. “You mean more than there’s been already in just gettin’ here?” He shook his head. “Maybe.”

“You’re not worried? You don’t sound worried.” She frowned.

He squeezed her hand and shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe a little. But I figure, if something does happen, I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you, til I’m dead, for good, at least.”

She smiled ruefully. “That might have been the sweetest thing ever. Except for the fighting part.”

“Well, the ups and downs are half the fun, don’t you think, luv?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

“Guess we will.”

Chapter Four: Is The Past Still Nipping At You?

“It’s just a tiny spell!” Willow promised. “I just want to try it out and see. It’ll help in the future if I can get it to work!”

“What if it…if it, backfires, and accidentally hurts Spike?” Tara protested, eyes saddened at the vehemence with which her lover was pursuing the topic. They were sitting in the living room of the Summers’ couch, a movie playing long forgotten on the television.

“It only works if I’m looking at the vamp I want to dust!” Willow responded, trying to stay reasonable, though her temper was beginning to flare. Didn’t Tara trust her?

“It’s too dangerous. And it’s not a specific enough spell, Willow.”

“What, you think I’m going to go around and dust people? What next, you think I’ll start killing kitties? Or…or… cussing? I thought you knew…”

“I know you’d never do it on purpose, honey… it’s just, accidents happen with these types of things…”

“But think of all the good that could come of it, baby! If we could just look at a demon and say, “dust” and it’s gone? It would keep Buffy AND Spike from stepping right into the danger and…”

“Maybe it is helpful. But, but what if, if you do it one too many times? It’s…it takes a lot of energy…and a lot of concentration… if you mess up…what if it turns Spike into dust? Or, or it hurts Buffy? Or you?” Tara’s eyes were wide and pleading.

Willow looked horrified at Tara. “You…you don’t trust me!? You think I’d hurt them! You don’t think I can handle it!”

“No! I didn’t say that, it was just…” Tara trailed off weakly. “What if?”

“There are no what ifs! What ifs are amateur witchy things. I’m so on top of that, can’t you see? I’ve been practicing, and, and, and, doing witchy stuff, a lot. I’m good at it!”

“I know you’re powerful, and I know you get better every time we practice, but this sort of spell is just too risky, Willow.”

The redhead, looked down, unable to meet her lover’s eyes. “You don’t trust me.”

Tara almost moved to apologize at the sad, lost tone Willow had taken, but in a sudden spur of backbone, remembered that it was important for Will to understand what she was saying. “I do trust you. I don’t trust the powers you’re trying to tap, honey. Just…please…”

Willow was deeply hurt by her lover’s lack of faith in her. “Fine. I’ll just keep being useless, or, or, doing baby spells that involve putty in the eyes, and stuff.”

“You’re not useless, baby! You’re very important!” *unlike me,* Tara thought before she could stop herself.

“I want to be more helpful!” Willow started. “I mean, Buffy and Spike have their super powers. And they get to use them, like, all the time! How come when I want to use mine, it’s automatically wrong?”

“Magic is trickier than super strength and super speed, Willow,” Tara started explaining. “That’s, that’s just the way it is.” She smiled lightly, trying to appear comforting.

Willow sighed. “Fine, I won’t do the dusty spell.”

Tara’s face lit up with relief. “Thank you.” She got up and kissed her girlfriend on the temple, before looking at the clock on the far wall. “I’m going to go take a shower, okay?”

“Okay,” Willow responded, squeezing Tara’s hand before the blonde turned to go upstairs. Deciding that she could do the spell without Tara’s help. *I mean, it can’t hurt anyone if they don’t know, right? And if it saves someone in the future, then all the better.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy surveyed the area, hoping they'd run into some vamps to dust. She'd let her muse run rapid with the idea of having trouble with Spike and the possibilities (and the bruises) didn’t look promising. She wasn't sure she was prepared to handle any arguments with him. Their relationship began with enough stress in it already, from keeping it hidden from Giles to the whole vampire/slayer thing, to Riley, Angel, and the chip incident. The thought of them arguing and fighting (more than they already did and not half as playful) seemed unbearable.

Other thoughts of the possibility that Spike would go on a killing craze if things were to go poorly crossed her mind, but she quickly shoved it aside with a quick mental chastisement, thoughts of the good he'd done for her and the Scoobies instantly replacing her sudden doubt.

"So what's a Slayer and her pet vampire s'pposed to do on a Saturday night?" Spike teased, flanked at her side as they walked hip to hip in a natural rhythm.

She dodged around a tombstone with him close by and sighed. "It’d be nice to do some real boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff, you know?" she suggested, though the prospect sounded hopeless even to her. But it was nice to fantasize a little.

"Hmmm..." Spike licked his lips. "Like have us a good snog in a cemetery?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "There's more to life than making out, Spike."

"Really?" Spike raised his brows.

She glared, shaking her head. "Ugh..."

"I'm teasin,' pet..." he assured her, voice low and friendly in a way that made him seem all the more real in the role of boyfriend. And the fact that he was slightly pouty only added to the effect.

Spike sighed inwardly when she didn’t respond to his soothing behavior. Why was she suddenly upset with him? He studied her frame, from the lilt of her walk to the slight slump of her shoulders. He watched the way her lips pouted deliciously and piteously at the same time, and how her arms dangled at her sides. He frowned, feeling angry with himself for doing something to upset her. A right wanker, he was.

His mind flitted back to earlier in the day, at the mall. He felt his mind cloud with blackness and he grated his teeth at the images his twisted memory reproduced. He rolled his shoulders, snapping the joints in his neck to keep his anger in check. "What would you like to do then, Slayer? Maybe we can go to the mall and have a nice chit chat or something..."

She stopped in her tracks and glared at him with ice in her eyes. "Why'd you say that?"

"You want a normal night, Buffy? Well I'm not your guy..." Spike kicked at a stone halfheartedly.

"Oh that’s real sweet, Spike," she hissed back, crossing her arms and turning away from him completely. She bit on her lip. He would NOT break her down to tears. She stomped a few feet away, knowing she'd dissolve into them any minute. This was not supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be able to get to her with a few stupid words like that. It wasn’t that far along between them, dammit!

Spike felt his anger fading at the sadness that darkened her eyes before she had turned from him. He took a deep breath, wondering if it would somehow help him control his sudden urge to pummel something senseless. He closed his eyes for a moment and willed the demon whispering wicked things in him to stop. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself moving briskly to her side. He was so slayer whipped it wasn't even funny. He didn’t really care to laugh anyway. "Pet... 'm..."

His apology was rudely cut off when he was knocked across the head with something heavy and blunt. He hit the ground with a thump and a muffled curse.

Buffy turned around quickly at the sound, her anger dissolving to instant concern. "Spike!" she cried out before receiving a similar blow to the head, which knocked her over a tombstone. She landed on her rear, forced to stare up at her attacker.

A large, powerfully muscled vamp snarled at her, reaching for her throat hungrily.

She rolled backwards, easily avoiding his grasp before hopping to her feet and pulling a stake out with her momentum. "Don't you know it’s not nice to interrupt a lover's spat?"

It growled, advancing slowly. "Soon you'll be dead and it won't matter, Slayer..."

"Been dead... twice actually. No biggie, really. Why don’t you try it again too?" she quipped, throwing a spinning kick into her attacker’s chest, which sent him flying backwards.

The vamp staggered, clutching its chest irritably as it glared at her. "If I don't kill you, my sire will. There are many of us, Slayer, all dedicated. You're no match," he ground out, jumping at her. “Not even with the traitor’s help.”

“Yeah, so afraid. So very…” Buffy paused to yawn. “…afraid.” She stuck her boot out in a spinning arc, catching the demon smartly across the jaw. He toppled over and she pulled her stake and planted a foot on the vampire’s chest. "And just who is this sire of yours?"

It coughed, glaring up at her with angry yellow eyes. "Sire said you'd ask. I'm not to tell..."

Spike groaned, finally coming back to consciousness.

"Well, you can tell me and I'll let you go, or I can just slay you and find out later..." Buffy baited.

"Sire said you'd be tricky, but I won't tell. My master's identity is secret," he hissed in reply.

"Your master's a chicken," Buffy snorted. "Too afraid of the Slayer to come out of hiding..."

The vamp ignored her and turned its ridged head towards Spike instead. "I have a message personally for you, traitor. When the stars are all named and the dead bird sings, master will come for you both. There'll be no place to hide and you both will die. You can't stop us. We're too powerful this time," the vampire chuckled happily, even as Buffy made a disgusted face at it and raised her stake. Suddenly it’s eyes were back on her. "You'll fall, Slayer... just like the ones before you."

Spike's head lifted as the vampire talked. The stars were named… familiarity hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt his entire body tense. *God no... It couldn't be...*

Buffy soon grew weary of the threats made on not only her life, but on Spike's. Plunged her stake downward and watched as the hulking form of her chosen enemy evaporated into dust beneath her. "Obviously not as powerful as you thought, dusty."

She wiped her hands off in a rather self-satisfied manner before sheathing her weapon of choice in the waistband of her pants and turning around. Spike still lay unconscious on the floor. All angry thoughts directed at him from before vanished from her mind in a puff of vamp dust as she saw him lying sprawled out like that, and she ran to him. "Spike!" she cried, falling to her knees at his side. She turned him over in her arms, cradling his head. An angry red bruise shone like a beacon against his telltale shock of white hair. "Wake up, baby..." she knew inside he was all right but the fledgling had her worried. Just who was this powerful master?

Spike pretended to wake from unconsciousness, as he so often saw those actors do on TV. He opened his eyes slowly, shock still registering in his body. He shivered in her arms and shook his head with a grunt. "Slayer?"

"It's me, we were attacked..." she clutched him close still, and he was warmed at the thought that even after there’d been fighting, she loved him.

He squirmed out of her grasp, sitting up, and hissed as a small bout of nausea engaged him. He rubbed irritably at the bump throbbing angrily on his head. "How many?"

"Just one," she grinned sheepishly.

"Bloody hell..." Spike snorted.

"Spike..." she started. "The fledgling wouldn't say who his sire was, but he seemed pretty sure that’s its the powerful type vamp. He said that the sire had a message for me..."

Spike swallowed hard, pretending he had no clue what she was saying. Like he hadn’t heard every word of that ominous, eerily familiar warning. "Oh?"

"He said, when the stars are all named and the dead bird sings...that the master will come for us and we'll die." Buffy repeated what the dusty vamp had told her. “You think this sire is a raging psycho? Wait…dumb question.”

Spike chuckled on the outside in a manner which he hoped was convincing as genuine. On the inside he was ice cold with fear. “Someone’s definitely off their rocker, pet," he responded. *Right up her ally.* "Dead birds can't sing..."

"I betcha they can on the Hellmouth," she huffed. "Do you know what it means, Spike? Sound like anyone from your previous Big Bad days?"

"No," he lied, eyes turned away from her. "No idea at all."

"Well, guess this can only mean one thing," Buffy frowned.

"What's that?" he could almost feel his heart pound anxiously, hoping she didn’t see right through him.

"Research..." she groaned, standing up and offering him a hand.

"Oh.." He calmed inside, and was able to actually swallow to smooth out the roughness of his voice.. "Right then." He took her proffered hand and scrambled rather gracelessly to his feet, nearly tumbling back to the ground in his haste.

"Whoa, wobbly knees," Buffy gripped him tightly. "Only 'm s'pposed to do that to you..." She grinned at him.

"Buffy..." He searched her eyes with his own. He had to tell her, but...how?

"Don't be mad, about before? Please? I'm sorry... We both know this is beyond better than a normal relationship and I shouldn't expect..."

He cut her off with a searing, desperate kiss. Things just got a whole lot more complicated than debating on the merits of a normal relationship. The fight about something like that seemed so insignificant in his eyes right now. All he could think about was how he couldn't lose her; not now and not ever. Not if he still wanted to feel whole inside. But strangely, he couldn't tell her the truth either, and he knew it had the possibility to destroy them. It could wreck him beyond repair. He deepened the kiss, growling ferociously. But they had now, at the moment. He pulled her tightly against him, using his vampire strength to crush her body against his.

She moaned loudly, from both the heat of his kiss and from the painful, possessive grip he had on her body. "I guess 'm forgiven..." she grunted out after pulling back for air.

He softened his embrace, nuzzling her neck tragically. “Of course, Buffy.” *Question is, will you ever be able to forgive me, luv?*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


She smiled at him, running her fingers through his white blonde hair affectionately, loving how it curled of it’s own volition when he neglected to gel it down. She planted a kiss on the top of his head and ran her other arm across his spine, through his black t-shirt in a series of feather light caresses. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of the length of his body stretched over hers as they lay on the couch together in a scene so oddly domestic that those that knew them would laugh if they ever were to stumble upon it.

Spike's mind however, was far from where it should have been. Nothing was more wonderful than to hold her, and be with her like this, but his thoughts in a whirlwind of anguish decided to replay the scene from earlier. Could it really be that she was back? Why was she hiding like this? It was so unlike Dru to hide in shadows and make fledglings of scrap. Did she know about him and Buffy? Is that what she was after, destroying them? What would he do? He needed to protect his love from his sire; his dark queen. But how could he destroy Dru? He couldn't, and he wasn't sure he could let Buffy do it either. He hated this... It made him feel... guilty...wicked...evil...Was he really betraying Buffy? He liked to think he was keeping her safe, or was he really trying to protect Dru?

He lifted his head, looking into her eyes.

She smiled sweetly. "Spike..." she leaned up to kiss him, lips parted.

He felt violently sick to his stomach with grief. He jumped up before he lost himself. "I've gotta go Buffy..."

"What?" She frowned. "Why?" Her brow furrowed with concern as she watched him throw on his duster.

"It's getting late," he straightened his collar.

"But..." she was taken aback by his attitude. It seemed like he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough "I...I thought it be nice if you stayed with me...here... on the couch," she blushed. "Like last time?"

His insides broke at sound of her voice; so sweet, so warm, so gentle. He didn’t deserve it, the ponce that he was. Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair. "I can't, luv,"

She felt her heart crack at the look on his face. "Why?" She sat up.

"Because I just said I can't," he sighed, his mind too wrapped around Drusilla and finding out what was going on to think up a logical excuse. He turned his gaze to her face, hoping the look in his eyes would help her trust him on this. However, one glance at the sadness in her eyes shining back at him and he groaned. Kneeling in front of her and taking her hands into his own, he kissed their backs tenderly. "Another night, pet..." If she'd still love him after this mess...

"Right, okay.." she nodded, trying to hide the disappoint wallowing in her throat. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course, pet. I can't stand to be without you, you know,” he whispered gently as he laid a soft kiss on her cheek.

She seemed stunned at the comment. He was being amazing, but so mysterious at the same time. She sighed, realizing that she was acting like a lovesick fool. Pushing men away was her specialty; yet she didn't think coming on too strong with Spike would push him away. Maybe it was.

"I love you. Never forget that, Buffy." He kissed her lips, and their contact felt like a mere shadow. It left her wanting more. It felt haunted.

"I love you too, Spike..." she replied breathily.

He stood up, heading for the door.

She followed after, lagging. "Wish you would stay..." she started, beginning to plead once more.

He was already gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Spike took off down the street quickly. He knew he shouldn't have left so abruptly, but Dru could be out there somewhere and he had to find out what she was up to. For Buffy's sake... right??

At least that’s how he felt deep down. He loved her with all he was, and all he wished he was. He had to be sure this was Dru. He also knew the Slayer would probably beat him to a bloody pulp if she found out he was keeping this from her, even if he argued it was to protect her. She hated to be protected, and frankly, she didn't need protection. So then, did he really want to protect Drusilla?

Spike knew without a doubt in his mind the one he truly loved was Buffy. He never loved anyone the way he loved her. But, Dru... Dru was not only his sire, but his lover for over a century. You didn't just forget that... You didn't just go up to your sire, your lover, and stake them in the heart because it threatened the love of your life, and many other lifetimes. Did you?

Spike growled with uncertainty and he patted his leather duster in search of salvation. It was times like these that gum didn't cut it. He fished out the remnants of an old pack of cigarettes. He lit it quickly, before his mind changed and inhaled deeply.

God, he missed this. But kissing the Slayer more than made up for the loss of his smokes.

He headed for the mansion, hoping to find Dru and drive her out of Sunnydale before something they all regretted happened. Part of him hoped this wasn't his dark queen and he could go back home to Buffy and make up his wanker-ish behavior to her all night.

But there was another part of him that wondered what his Princess would say about his new relationship. She’d seemed to know, in her warped, psychic mind, that he loved the Slayer before he himself knew it. Course, he laughed taking a drag, he thought she was completely off her rocker then. Now, he knew she was right. Perhaps that’s why she was back. Now that Buffy loved him in return, she wanted vengeance of some sort? The slayer that stole the vampire from his centennial lover, from the one that breathed death and blood into his veins and took him unto a world of darkness. Then again, Dru's messenger had said they'd both die. Could it be, that his Drusilla wanted him to be dusty? Her William? Dru may have been loopy, but she’d never been spiteful to him.

Cor, she had to know that he wouldn't have staked her when he'd tied her and Buffy up. Well, if she did, perhaps he had to rethink staking her himself. If she did endanger Buffy's life... he couldn't even think about that, refused to at the moment. He wasn't sure he'd know what to do.

"Bloody hell, Spike. Find out if it is Dru first, worry about the rest later. The rate you're going mate, you'll be no good for anything. You know you love Buffy. If Dru tried to hurt her, you'd run her through with the wood yourself and you bloody well know it, you soddin’ ponce." he flicked his ashes. "Right?" He groaned. "Damn... I hate women..." he growled. "Great, you're a real nancy boy now, talkin' to yerself and shit..."

Okay, so maybe he was a little scared, or nervous rather. Yeah. Nervous. Not scared. On one hand, he had to keep this hidden from Buffy. At least until he was sure it was Dru. If it was, he’d deal with it from there. He wasn't sure Buffy would understand the loyalty he had towards Dru. She'd probably consider it more a love thing than a loyalty thing, knowing how her mind worked. And on the other hand, he wanted to tell her, because he knew that she'd be brassed off if he kept it hidden. Not to mention, she might think he'd gone evil again....

But... if he found Dru, got rid of her and neither of them were hurt, they'd all be better off. Well, he’d sleep better at night in any case.

Tossing his butt into the street, he exhaled the last of the smoke and strode with purpose to the mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Well, that was just fanfuckingtastic. No trace of her anywhere. The old factory, the mansion, the usual vamp haunts, nothing. Not a goddamn fucking thing. It should have been a good thing, though, wasn't it? Perhaps this meant it wasn’t Drusilla after all. Then again, maybe she’d just improved on her hide and seek game since he’d last seen her.

Anger pounded in waves over his body. He hated it when he couldn't do something to control the situation. Though, maybe this just meant there was nothing to worry about, and it was just some wanker who thought himself/herself a master vampire and that he could tangle with the Big Bad and his Slayer.

It was near dawn as he pounded down the streets of Sunnyhell at a quick pace, telling himself next time it might be smart to grab the bike or the Desoto when traveling so late.

The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and Spike thought it might be a sign from the PTBs. Or they were fucking with him again. Probably both.

Buffy's house was closer than his crypt... and well, he felt like a wanker for walking out on her earlier that night. He'd make it up to her now, not to mention he’d save his hide from an unwanted, and doubtlessly painful suntan in the meantime. Thinking her, he realized he missed her terribly all of a sudden. The prospect of not seeing her made him feel as if he might go mad. He needed to feel her warm embrace and her soft lips. He needed to smell her scent that was sometimes vanilla and sometimes strawberries, and he wanted to taste her creamy skin, feel her heartbeat beneath his hand, sure and strong, and reassuring. He needed her to tell him she loved him, and that in it self gave them enough power to take on whatever the world was about to throw at them.

It was scant minutes from sunrise when he realized he'd wandered a bit aimlessly, lost in daydreams of her. He cursed himself and took off at run for Revello Drive.

"Of all the dumb luck," he growled, running up her steps, his duster beginning to smoke as the sun peeked over the horizon. He pounded on the door, hoping Dawn wouldn't be woken up by his careless slamming. "Slayer!!!"

He hissed at the sun, as a stray ray flashed over his delicate skin. "Buffy!!!" he shouted, closing his eyes, calling her name out over and over.

The door flung open quick and he was violently pulled inside and into the safety of the shadows.

He collapsed onto the steps as the door shut quickly behind him.

The hissing and popping of his skin diminished and he sighed in relief. "Thanks, luv."

"Spike, Jesus Christ almighty, are you trying to kill yourself?!" Buffy hissed, at his side in an instant and looking over his slightly smoking skin. She was torn between smacking him for being such an idiot and cooing over her poor, burnt baby.

"Kill myself? Not when I've got you to look forward to pet, no..." he patted the smoke off his duster. "Just felt like getting meself a nice ol' tan..."

She smacked his arm. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He chuckled, thinking how much she sounded like the old Buffy. The one who despised him. Now, there was only concern behind her harshness. "Missed you terribly, pet."

She sighed, melting a little. "You coulda just stayed last night."

"Hadda take care of a few things," he responded easily for her benefit, winking. "Found out after a bit that I couldn't stay away." He caressed her cheek softly. “Don’t know why,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers.

She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "I'm glad you're back." When her eyes opened they were clouded with confusion. "Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere special, luv...." he shook his head, standing. "Just a few loose ends tied up."

She eyed him, unsure as whether or not to believe him. "So...." she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and drop it. "Guess you're stuck here until sunset..."

"Yeah...'less you really do want me to improve my tan," he teased.

She slipped her arms under his duster, encircling his waist. “I think you look fine just the way you are. Good enough to eat,” she whispered conspirationally, pulling him close, eyes looking up into his as she brushed her lips softly against his cool ones. The way his eyes locked on her, their sparkling blue intensity, always made her lose control of herself. She moaned and leaned into the kiss, parting her lips slightly.

Spike wasted no time taking her up on her invitation and he purred softly into her mouth, his tongue exploring the unique taste that was hers alone. He rested his forehead against hers, groaning in self-loathing. "Bloody hell, Slayer, you got me acting like some bloody house cat...purring whenever you touch me...." he whispered huskily, half in annoyance and half in wonder. "Do you have any idea what the hell you do to me?"

She smiled with a kind of feminine satisfaction, reveling in the feel of the slightest contact with him. He growled low in his throat and the coquettish look she gave him, and with barely restrained lust, assaulted her mouth his, his tongue doing things to hers that made her lose her mind. "Mhhmm..." Her heart pounded heavily in her chest and she breathed deeply. The sounds he could make, that mischief in his eyes, always pushed her over the edge. It was so intoxicating; primal and full of promise. It made her feel powerful, in that she could do that to him, and she liked it. Though she supposed he had the power to make her do things she normally wouldn’t. She knew he loved the way he could make her mewl like a newborn kitten, make her writhe and squirm under his touch. The power they had over each other was welcome, balancing, a heady combination of chemistry and passion.

She tipped her head back, exposing her throat to his mouth, to be devoured or caressed, she didn’t care. Her eyes closed tightly and she groaned intimately when his lips crashed upon the hollow of her throat, tracing a path along her jugular and up to her chin in a series of maddening nips and licks. She nearly cried aloud.

"Spike..."

He could hear her heart pounding and her blood pumping through her veins with such intensity, his head ached momentarily. "Slayer..." he growled, a bit ferocious. Before he knew it, his growls turned into purrs again, as her hands worked their way into his wild, platinum locks. He nibbled at her throat, reveling in the taste of her.

She smiled; satisfied at the work his mouth was doing at her throat. His blunt human teeth were driving her insane. She trusted him completely so she dipped her throat back further, inviting more of his ministrations.

His insides quivered with want and he knew if he didn't stop, he'd regret it. He couldn't believe how trustingly she presented her neck to him; just inviting him to it. He pulled away, eyes closed. He took a deep breath, trying to control himself. "Buffy..."

”I trust you, Spike. I trust you with all my heart. Never forget that," she echoed his words from earlier, and tilted her head back up, eyes on him.

He looked into hers, brushing back her wild hair in a gesture so tender that it seemed out of place amidst what they were doing to each other currently. They stood like that for a long time, lost in each other's eyes. His hand ran the length of her to the waist, gently, reverently. "I know you do, pet, I know. I just want to hold you right now, never stop touching you."

She stifled a yawn, smiling, with a dreamy look in her eyes. "Sounds better than heaven..." she gripped his hand in hers, leading him to her room. “But promise to never let go?"

“Swear it, baby.” He followed up after her, his undead heart filled with warmth at her comment. Looking at her as she led him, he was convinced he was truly the luckiest bloke on the face of this earth, and all other dimensions alike.

Her room was darkened perfectly, and he watched as she sunk into bed, waiting for him. He thought back briefly to the times where he stood outside her window, wanting so desperately to be in here with her, holding her, loving her. To think it was all his and only his now, was almost too good to be true.

He let his duster fall to the floor with a whoosh, and tore off his blue button down and black t-shirt. All the time, his eyes on her, and she watched him in return. He kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt. He slipped into the bed beside her and nearly died a second time. She slipped against his cold, muscled chest and snuggled against him, pressing kisses onto his skin in a manner that threatened to make him burn from the inside out.

She pulled the blanket over them, resting her head in the crook of his neck and sighed happily. She noticed how perfectly the frame of her body fitted to his, one leg draped across his jean clad legs. Her arm was draped across his chest lovingly caressing his muscled abs, enjoying how they jumped and quivered under her touch.

Spike was lost in the scent of her. Her golden hair was inches from his nose; her beautiful face buried against his neck. She was wrapped around him like they were long time lovers, slipping into their partners embrace, two pieces of a puzzle snapped together. He pulled her into him further, an arm wrapped around her soft frame possessively. She breathed softly, sending warm breaths across his bare chest, soon falling into a pattern that told him she was fast asleep.

He snuggled into her, emitting one last satisfied purr, closing his eyes. This was what home felt like. This was the love he always wondered about. Nothing was more wonderful than holding her right now. When the time came that he could hold her warm flesh upon his cooler flesh, after making love to her, he would know what it was like to touch heaven's gates. He would know serenity. For now he would take this little piece of heaven, and treasure it with all his undead being.