CHAPTER 8

The traveler pushed himself off the wet grass and buttoned his pants. "Nothing like a good forcible entry to go along with a couple light snacks," he quipped. He looked down at his handiwork; pleased at the destruction he had wrought. The boy had actually tried to fight him. Ha! He wanted to kill him quick in order to have a go with his pretty bitch. Well, he had hit the traveler pretty good, at least for being so scrawny. It sullied the traveler’s mood somewhat. Instead of killing the boy off the bat, he had made him watch as he took the boy’s woman in so many vile ways. Hard to do anything with a broken back and shattered kneecaps. He was cruel and he knew it. At least he had put the boy out of his misery.

The traveler knelt down to the girl. He twirled a lock of her hair between his slender fingers. She had passed out again. He had thought about killing her, turning her even. But his demon screamed at the injustice of it. Handiwork like this had to be admired, treasured in living memory. Keeping her alive was the only way. And if it resulted in nightmares for the rest of her life? Well, as people were so fond of saying, Shit Happens.

He chuckled to himself and walked away from the bloody mess he had left in his wake. Enough of the games; it was time for business.

He sighed as he descended upon the town. All those people, walking by him, none aware of his true nature. What he wouldn’t give to take whom ever he wanted. But he had to maintain discipline. In this world, or time, the humans were still in control. Or so they thought.

Go about your business, cattle, he thought as he eyed passers-by, delighting in their fear. Aside arms covered in tattoos and a curly shock of platinum blond hair, he was decidedly average. He stood a little over six feet with the build of a distance runner: lithe yet powerful. His face was clean-cut except for the conglomeration of hair affixed to his chin. Nothing to be unnerved by. Of course it may have been that homicidal look in his eyes. Unmistakable contempt glared out at them, as if they weren't even there. As if they were all insignificant, their lives meaningless. And they were right. He was privy to future events that would forever alter the nature of things upon earth. And to think, it would all start because one unnatural relationship…

He smiled at the prospect of returning to his own time.

He remembered the words of his master quite clearly and had to still the demon that raged within him. Even before his embrace into the world of shadows, Seth had never been known for his restraint. He did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He was a man driven by emotions and that was why she had chosen him.

He smiled at the thought of her. He was drawn to her in a way he could not explain and once she laid her eyes upon him, she too was smitten. He had reminded her of someone she had once been close to. She had even insisted on him making certain aesthetic-modifications. He fingered the deep gash above his left eye. She had taken her nail to it and it had yet to heal.

Emerald, he thought to himself. She was an obsession he would have no more. She had bedded him for months but had finally taken him to her consort, lest their affair be found out. She had convinced her consort to sire Seth and once he had been turned, she had become off limits. She was his master's through and through. She rarely spoke to Seth afterwards, always at his master's side. But he saw the longing in her eyes and would always love her in his heart.

He pushed those thoughts away as he navigated through the center of town. He had a job to do; find the Slayer. That was simple enough but the master had insisted that he recruit some demons to help him along in his task. It was unnecessary in his book, since he was confident no one here could best him. But he knew his master. A polite insistence was, for all intents and purposes, equivocal to a command. There would be no arguments on his end. It gave him a chance to intimidate something other than humans. Maybe he could even get a decent workout over it.

It took him an hour before he arrived at the doors of Willie's bar. Even before he entered, he knew it was a demon haunt. The preternatural energy radiated from the bar like heat billowing up from asphalt. A few powerful auras caught his attention. But for the most part, they were nothing but wastes of space.

He pushed open the door and strolled into the bar. Dozens of eyes fell upon him immediately. He smiled knowingly. He could feel their unease at the stranger dare entering their premises.

"If I would have known you all were waiting for me, I would have dressed more appropriately," he said, his eyes roamed the room, momentarily making contact with each face in the room. Most of them dropped their gazes and returned to their drinks and conversations. They were the intelligent ones. Of course, there were always a few who weren't so intelligent.

"Look what we have here, fellas," a particularly large vampire said as he sauntered up to Seth with four minions in tow. The large vampire towered over Seth and looked the traveler up and down with unbridled disgust.

"Well, looks like we have another poser, fellas," he told the vampires standing behind him. They snickered nervously. At least they aren't as brazenly daft as this guy, Seth mused. He stared into the eyes of the one furthest to the rear. The vamp refused to meet his eyes and Seth knew he was young. He couldn’t have been turned more than a few weeks ago. One of these bozos must have turned him and now they were his lifeline, his family. In fact, the kid, with his overly curly hair and thick eyebrows reminded Seth of his brother, James. And for an instant, Seth felt a pang of longing rise within him before he brushed it away. Can't be feeling sorry for my prey, now can I, he smiled internally.

The large vampire was still yapping his trap and Seth watched him though he paid him no mind. That was, until something caught his ear.

"What did you say?" Seth demanded, taking a step up to the vampire.

"I said," the vampire repeated, "are you also one of the Slayer's lapdogs?" He puffed out his chest. "I guess the bitch likes her men…scratch that…her vampires, blond. And docile. You're probably just as helpless against humans as the other one." The large vampire laughed heartily and three of his minions laughed more confidently. 'James' still stood quiet, his eyes not looking up.

"Helpless," Seth reiterated with a smirk. The laughter ceased immediately as more eyes turned to the confrontation. Everyone had heard the tone in Seth's voice and knew business was about to pick up. He took another step to the large vamp until they were eyes to chin. He closed his eyes, a look of serenity etched on his face.

"You want to know what helpless is?" He asked the vampire before continuing. "Helpless is five fledgling vamps picking a fight with someone whom they should look at and know not to fuck with…" and that was when the shit hit the fan.

With a speed that defied description, Seth struck. He sidestepped to his right and decapitated the vampire to the left of 'Big Mac' with a roundhouse kick to the neck. Before that vamp was dust, he spun and planted a sharp elbow to the solar plexus of a second vamp, doubling the minion over in pain. He turned him to ash with a vicious chop to the back of the neck. 'Big Mac' finally reacted and Seth shattered the large vampire's ribs with a well-placed kick. He was going to save the big one for last. But the distraction was enough for the third vampire to land a blow. The punch only grazed the top of Seth's head and he knew he was lucky. The force behind the punch was awesome and he staggered back. This guy is a fighter, he thought to himself as he lashed out with a punch of his own. Surprisingly, the vamp, which sported a crewcut, parried it and delivered a bone-shattering body shot. Seth was stunned but immediately spun and shot his leg out. It connected with the side of 'Crew-Cut's' knee and the sickening rendering of bone and cartilage was drowned out by the vampire's screams of agony. Seth ran up to the kneeled form and put him in a front face lock. He struggled until a hard tug from Seth ripped his head off, turning him into dust.

The crowd of onlookers stared in disbelief at the scene before them. This stranger had just taken out Primus and his gang in less than ten seconds without a scratch on him. They all trembled except for two pair of eyes seated in the corner, obscure from sight.

Seth looked down at the three dust piles before him, his fists still clenched. He felt the eyes boring into him with a combination of astonishment, respect, and most important of all, fear. But there was also something else. Someone, rather, a couple someone's' eyed him with interest. He turned to look but the muffled cries of 'Big Mac' reminded him that he still had some unfinished business to attend to.

He walked casually over to 'Big Mac' and hoisted him up by the lapels of his jacket.

"Pathetic," he spat at the injured vampire that clutched his ribs.

"Pl…please don’t! I'll do anything. Just don’t…"

"Don’t what? Kill you? Can't even say the words. You are absolutely pathetic," he dropped him to the ground and he whimpered in both pain and fright. Seth walked over to 'James', who cowered against the bar. He glanced at the short man behind the bar who had said nothing during the fracas. Seth smiled viciously at the man.

"Hi…hi ya doin," the man said, smiling back timidly. "Can I offer you a pint of O-negative? Or maybe some AB?"

"What's your name, little man?" Seth asked, resting his forearms on the bar.

"Willie…I'm the owner of the place." He stuck a shaking hand out as if offering a flag of truce. Seth looked the hand up and down and turned his back to Wily.

"Well, Willie. I have some advice for you. The next time you speak to me, make sure I have spoken to you first," he said, an undeniable air of malice audible in his tone. He walked over to 'James' and put an arm around the frightened vampire. He guided 'James' over to the still downed 'Big Mac' before addressing the newly turned vampire.

"So, what's your name?"

"R…r..Randy," he choked out.

"Randy, huh? Well, you know what Randy; I don’t like that name. I like James a lot better. In fact, you look more like a James anyway. So from now on, I'm going to call you James," he craned his neck to look into 'James'' eyes. "Is that cool with you, James?" The vampire nodded nervously, studying his fidgeting hands.

"Great, I'm glad we've got that settled. Now, James, I want to ask you something. Is this sack of shit," he pointed to 'Big Mac' who cowered on the floor, "the reason you're all bumpy up here?" he tapped 'James' on the forehead.

"Ye…yeah, sir."

"So what is his name?"

"P…p…Primus."

"Primus?" Seth asked in disbelief. He laughed out loud and slapped his hand against 'James'' back. The scared vamp stumbled forward but stayed on his feet. Seth didn’t notice as he was bent over in almost hysterical laughter. He finally calmed enough before he could speak. "Primus?! Are you named after the group? I mean they were so over years ago. I mean, I know I have their fiftieth anniversary Microdisc but," He stopped when he saw 'James' looking at him, perplexed.

"Oh, forgot when I was," he said and returned his stony gaze to the downed vampire who began to rise to his feet.

"So, Primus," he said, putting his hand on the vampire's shoulder, "wanna tell me again whose helpless?"

"Fuck you," he spat. Seth calmly squeezed the vampire's shoulder. He instantly fell back to his knees as Seth ground his bones together. Surprisingly, he didn’t scream. His demon face only twisted in anger, hate, and pain. Seth eyed him intensely before breaking his grip.

"Well, I see you have done quite the one-eighty from thirty seconds ago. What's up, someone give you a sip of courage juice while I was gone?"

Primus' yellow eyes bore holes through Seth and the traveler laughed again.

"I won't beg for my life," he said simply.

"What made you change your mind?" Seth asked, intrigued.

"Fuck off," the vampire spat for the second time and struggled to his feet again. He rose to his full height despite the pain. Seth eyed the man suspiciously and had to re-evaluate his opinion of the man. At first glance, he had thought the guy was just a bully. All talk and no bite. But now…no, he was more than that. Maybe this Primus guy wasn’t quite the waste after all.

"Relax, Primus. I'm not going to kill you," the injured vampire's shoulders visibly relaxed. "That is as long as you do something for me."

"What?" he said with skeptical eyes.

"Tell me why you called me…what was that colorful phrase again? Oh yeah. 'One of the Slayer's lapdogs'," he said making air quotes around the last five words.

Primus laughed but stopped abruptly when the pain hit him. He doubled over before gaining a grip on himself. "I mean look at you. The blond hair, the leather vest and black jeans." He looked Seth up and down, "and you even have the blasted scar." Seth unconsciously ran his finger over the scar but let Primus finish. " I thought you were another Spike clone." Primus finished with a smirk but stepped back when he saw the eyes of Seth glower.

"Spike," he spat poisonously. So that was her game, the bitch. He thought murderously. But why? His demon fumed at the revelation but he quickly doused it. This was no time to get sidetracked. He had a job to do. And a point to make.

He turned back to 'James'. He glared at the boy amiably. He put both his hands on the boy's shoulders before speaking. "You know, I had a brother named James once." His eyes clouded with the memories of a childhood lost too soon. "You remind me so much of him. I miss him," Seth said in a whisper.

James was confused at the total change in character of the man. Seth had dropped his arms from the boy's shoulders and studied the ground. "What…what happened to him?" 'James' asked, consolingly. And that's when it happened.

The occupants in the room had heard the whole conversation and all looked upon this big bad vampire that looked as if he were going to burst into tears. It was sickening. But even they were appalled at what he did next.

Without taking his eyes from the ground, Seth shot his right hand forth and into 'James'' chest. The young vampire had no time for any response as Seth's hand emerged from his back. In his hand he clutched what was once the heart of the young vampire. Disbelief crossed his face before his dissolved into so many bits of dust.

Seth stood there for a moment and examined his dust-covered arm as if seeing it for the first time. He then cast his eyes to the pile that was once 'James' and knelt down. His forearms rested on his knees before he replied to the fledgling's earlier question.

"I killed him," he said simply.

No one spoke and several demons picked this moment to exit the bar with as little commotion as possible. Seth's eyes glossed over with memories of the past before he snapped back into the now.

"Now," he said, addressing the remaining onlookers. "I'm looking for a few good men…or should I say demons. I'm looking for a girl. Bout yay high, blond hair, cute as a button. Calls herself the Slayer…"

FAMILY TIES 9

It had been an interesting scene when Spike joined the four women in the living room. Tara and Willow were curled up together on the couch. The former gave him a knowing wink and whispered something to Willow and they laughed in unison. He smiled sheepishly at the couple and turned his eyes toward Buffy. She was curled up in the recliner, her eyes intensely studying a woman's magazine. He smirked and drifted over to the Slayer. Dawn sat on the floor next to Buffy, her long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle. He gave her what was supposed to be a fleeting glance before turning his attention back towards his prey. That was, until he got a good look into the teenager's eyes. Her lust-filled eyes at that.

"Nibblet," he said as casually as he could. Willow and Tara were lost into one another's eyes, trading lovers' whispers and Buffy was still engrossed in her article. It was obvious that the other three occupants hadn't picked up on Dawn's lecherous glares at the vampire's bare chest. What to do? He thought, drawing closer to the transfixed girl. Hey, I'm evil. The Big Bad. Might as well have some fun with it. Without any more of a hesitation, he bent down to look at Dawn and pulled from his repertoire the most seductive smile he could muster. He knew it was wrong, considering the girl was almost like a surrogate sister to him. Of course, 'almost' wasn’t exactly blood-ties, thus he allowed himself this luxury.

"Enjoy what you see?" he asked, loud enough for both her and Buffy to hear. He had cocked his head so that the slayer thought he was talking to her and she quickly buried her eyes further into the magazine.

"I…uhhh…" Dawn stammered as her face glowed ten shades of red. He could see her throat working overtime to generate a twinge of moisture to no avail.

"I…I'm thirsty. Anyone else thirsty? I'm gonna get something to drink. Anyone else thirsty?" she repeated, mortified that she was caught in the act. She hustled out the room, receiving curious glares from the three remaining women.

"What was that about?" Buffy asked, averting her eyes from the pale skin of her sometimes lover hovering below her.

"Don't know," Spike replied innocently. But his look was anything but. Buffy could feel his eyes on her, dissecting every inch of her body, remembering every curve, every touch, every scream…She buried her face even further into the magazine's pages.

"Whatcha readin', luv?" he asked casually, purposely brushing his hand against her bare foot. She shivered noticeably at the touch.

"Cosmo," she said, as noncommittally as possible.

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully.

"What now?" she asked, finally looking up.

"I'm all about the experimentation," he gave her a lascivious look, "but readin' a magazine upside-down seems kinda…I don’t know, kinky." Buffy furrowed her brow for a moment before it dawned on her what he was talking about. She looked up fearfully at the couple on the couch to see if they had noticed the exchanged.

They did.

Spike actually laughed aloud. He had thought Dawn's blush had been bright but this…this was utterly nuclear in comparison. He thought to let it go, but it was so hard. Why not! He thought wryly.

"You seem tense, luv," he said, maneuvering behind. Before she could move, his placed his hands on her shoulders and started to massage her.

Any words Buffy intended were caught in her throat. My God, a part of her said, as his strong yet delicate hands danced and kneaded her tight muscles. She knew the magic that he possessed in those hands but not like this. His deft fingers worked the base of her neck and Buffy was lost in the moment. She closed her eyes her head drooped forward and the magazine slipped from her hands. She had forgotten about the two witches in the room, staring curiously at her. And she didn’t notice the low moans that escaped her lips nor her hand that had crept up between her breasts and stroked her own skin seductively.

"Gee, why don’t you two just get a room," Dawn said sardonically. She leaned against the way, arms crossed with a big glass of juice held casually in one hand. She looked at the two secret lovers with the mock indignation only a teenager could muster.

When Buffy had heard Dawn’s voice, it took all that she was not to scream in surprise. She whipped her neck around in Dawn’s direction, simultaneously slapping Spike’s hands away. Aside from a "bloody hell", he said nothing else. Buffy looked at her sister, ready to say something when she felt two extra pair of eyes zeroing in on her. Mortified, Buffy turned to Tara and Willow on the couch. The blond witch smiled at her knowingly while the red head’s mouth was plastered in an ‘O’ expression. Though she had wanted to reprimand Dawn for her implications, Buffy figured that silence would give the least away. She didn’t know how wrong she was.

"What?" Dawn exasperated, "It's not like I don’t know…"

"Know what?" Buffy interjected defensively. To his credit, Spike stood quietly, his face a picture of naivete.

Let's see her get out of this pinch, he thought to himself. Finally, it was going to be out in the open. No more taking crap from Xander about playing up on Buffy. Now, he had something to rub in the whelp's face. At that thought, a part of him was ashamed because he had already anticipated Xander's reaction to the news and it wasn't going to be pretty…

"C'mon, Buff," Dawn replied in her overly annoyed tone, "everyone knows something is going on between you two. I mean the late nights, the bug eyes you get anytime his name comes up…" but she never finished as Buffy snaked her arm around her sister's waist and 'escorted' her into the kitchen. "Hey," was all the younger Summers managed before disappearing across the kitchen's threshold once more.

Thoroughly entertained for the evening, the vampire plopped himself in the recently vacated recliner, his long legs thrown haphazardly across the side. His right arm dangled off the side while his left hand was comfortably tucked behind his head. Wonder what Buffy's sayin to the bit. It's not like she's stupid. Probably the smartest 'o the lot. Just tell her Buff, get it over with. Clear your conscience.

He chuckled to himself at the last thought but was broken out of his reverie by a soft voice calling his name. He turned to see a rather distraught Willow leaning forward.

"Yeah, Red?" he asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

"What…I was wondering. I mean, Dawn…and…and you. I mean Buffy. Not that it's any of my business but…are you…I mean you and Buffy," she motioned with her head obscurely, "you know. You know what I mean by 'you know'?" She paused. "You know?"

"Know what?" came a familiar voice from the foyer. Willow and Tara turned their heads toward the sound while Spike only groaned.

"Well if it isn't my favorite friend. The Billy Idol wannabe," Xander said as he took a seat on the edge of the couch.

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed unnecessarily. "You're one to talk, Brick Boy." He righted himself in the chair and stared at Xander intently. "So, tell again; what's it like to be the Count's sweet little trollop?" He leaned back, displaying his most arrogant airs, "Dyin' to hear it, really. Course you may wanna wait til the women are put to rest, mate. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself with all the sordid details. From what I hear, the Count engages in all sorts of nasties with his minions." He chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair.

The tension in the room was palpable and for the third time in the span of ten minutes, a beet-red face stared up at the vampire. Rather down at him, as Xander stood, fists clenched at his sides. He ignored Willow's hand as she tried to usher her oldest friend back to his seat.

"You know, dead-boy, you really talk a lot for someone who couldn’t hurt me even if I laid out in front of that dumpster that you call a car and begged you to make me a permanent part of the concrete." Xander's fury was barely contained that further added to the deliciousness of the situation.

"Touchy, Harris? Guess I hit a sore spot with you, no? Or was that Dracula that hit…" Spike didn’t finish his sentence as Xander grabbed the half-nude vampire by the shoulders and hoisted him up.

"You know, blonde bombshell, one of these days, someone is gonna be carrying a stake and trip and fall with it right into your chest," he spat. Spike only smirked before slapping Xander's hands away effortlessly. He received an uncomfortable shock for his efforts. Xander rubbed his forearm where Spike had struck him but laughed nonetheless.

"Awww, the widdle biddy vampire get a nasty shock to his peroxide-filled head?"

Spike massaged his palm against the light migraine thumping between his temples and smiled. "Truth hurts, doesn’t it," a single step and the man and vampire were practically nose to nose. Any trace of amusement on Spike's face had vanished. "And about the stake thing, you're bloody well right. One of these days, one'll have my name on it. Either that or a good old fashion sun bath. But," he lowered his voice menacingly, "I'd wager that before that happens this sodding chip will be history. And if you are still around then, I might take it upon myself to visit you a little payback." Neither moved nor dared break eye contact and the two women on the couch only looked at one another. All throughout the barb they had unsuccessfully attempted cooling the tempers. And the demeanor of the two men didn’t quite hint at a jovial reconciliation.

Just as the room felt as if it were going to overflow with hostility and angst, Buffy returned, followed by a glowing Dawn. Taking in the scene, she rushed over to the standoff and placed her hands on her hips. The weight of her gaze was enough for both men to immediately crane their necks in the slayer's direction. There she was, in all her glory, anger and frustration. She was hot and it was enough for both men to know it was time to back down.

"Hey, luv," Spike cajoled, attempting to get back into her good graces. Buffy rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"If I see you two one more time tonight attempting to see who has the biggest…" she paused and had the graciousness to look embarrassed, but it lasted only a moment. "Trust me boys. You do not want to annoy me anymore tonight." She hurled razors at the two men before sitting back in the recliner in a huff. Spike only smiled at her, his own tension melting away. He walked over to the recliner and, though knowing he was pressing his luck, sat on the chair arm. He was surprised when Buffy did not push him away or slam him with a few dishearteningly choice words.

"So, where's Buffy-bot 2.0?" Xander questioned. Though he had received the short version of the story, his first instinct was that Spike had made another toy to play with and it was broken. He sat next to the Wiccas all his energies focused on Spike. He looked mighty comfortable snuggled close to Buffy like that. Xander smiled inwardly, waiting for his former crush to hoist the vampire and his haughty 'tude right out the door of casa Summers.

Buffy stared forlornly at the coffee table that separated her from her two oldest friends. Her and Spike, that was. She sighed, dejectedly. Xander and Willow were two of the most important people in her life and she cherished their friendship. But even that wasn’t enough to make her happy. And though she loathed admitting it, the undead figure sitting inches from her was responsible for sparking a flicker of life within her. She had told Spike being with him made it all simpler. And in a way it did. But it was more than that. The way he made her feel inside, both physically and emotionally, were left out of the breakup speech. How could she tell him if she couldn’t admit to herself how terrifying it was to long for him like she did? She had tried to contain it to just the physical realm, unsuccessfully. He had gotten to her, injected himself into her and now…now she couldn’t get rid of the loneliness that shadowed her when he was not around. He had been right all along on many occasions. Through his eyes, she was as transparent as a window without glass. Boy, was he right. She wanted and craved him. What scared her most was the fact that she was beginning to see that she needed him.

"Can we get this show on the road?" Dawn said, trying her best to convey her boredom. Spike cast an eye toward him and she smiled. No, smiled wasn’t a strong enough word. She was beaming! Did the slayer…? No, she wouldn’t have told Nibblet. Would she? Would she be happy about that?

He shook the questions from his head. Right now, there were more important things to discuss.

"Right, then," he said and began pacing the room. "Well, I don’t know too much about her. Found her at the top of the bluff, naked as a jay bird, in pretty bad shape," he hesitated. "Bloody weird though."

"What?" Xander asked in contempt.

"Well, here I am, my duster draped to the ground and everything and still I get soaked. This little bit though," he pointed to the ceiling, "was dryer than the Sahara." They looked at him, not grasping the meaning. Spike sighed, irritated. "Bloody hell, people, work with me. What happens when it rains? You get wet." He paused, searching for a proper metaphor that even Harris could grasp. "Okay, now think about when you boil water. What happens to it?"

"It converts to its gas state," Willow chimed after a momentary silence.

"Now, what happens when a surface is already at the boiling point and water is introduced?" He eyed Willow.

"Well, if the surface is that hot, then the liquid will turn to steam almost as soon as it hits."

"Right. And that's how I found the bint. She…"

"That's impossible," Xander chirped eagerly, getting the gist of Spike's analogy. He was looking for a way to demean Spike and the vampire's obvious lack of knowledge of the ins and outs of human endurance. "Even you dea…" he caught Buffy's warning glare, "…Spike, even you know that someone's body temperature couldn't get that high without them turning into barbecue mess."

"Yeah, it's impossible. And this is a Hellmouth," Buffy interjected. "Impossible and Hellmouth don't quite fit in the same sentence. Plus, how do we know if she's human?"

"We..well, she really did look the part," Tara said softly.

"And so does Spike," Buffy countered. The vampire looked at her indignantly. Buffy smiled affectionately at him and his features softened. She had never looked at him like that, let alone with people actually around. He didn’t comment but stored the feeling coursing through him for a later date.

"The point is," she continued, "that we don’t know anything about her. Well, aside from the fact that she has an obvious fixation with Spike," Xander was about to comment before Buffy raised her voice, "and an obvious dislike for Sunnydale's residential slayer. I mean we don’t know what she is, where she's from. We don’t even know her name."

"Faith," said a small yet strong voice from the steps. All eyes turned to the source. She stood in the open, arms crossed. She wore a black tank top and gray sweatpants, obviously swiped from Buffy's closet. A bare foot tapped impatiently on the hardwood floor while everyone, including Spike, looked in awe. He had been around her the longest but she didn’t carry any type of fire within her. But she sure as hell did now, and it was eerie. Not because they were afraid, rather that everything about her bore an uncanny resemblance to their own Buffy.

"What?" Buffy asked, the first to recover.

"Faith. That's my name," she walked into the middle of the room, not hiding her aggravation in the least. "Did you or did you not ask me my name?" Her eyes bore through Buffy. But the rustled slayer regained her resolve and stood, her patience gone.

"What is your problem?" Buffy demanded, her anger clouding the fact that this girl, for all intents and purposes, was the spitting image of her.

"You, you nit," she retorted, taking a step toward the slayer.

"Look, girl. My aching jaw has already told me that much. But my question is why." For a moment, the girl's anger seethed as though she was about to lose herself in it. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it dissipated and was replaced by an infinite sadness that was difficult to take. For no apparent reason, a wave of guilt inundated Buffy.

"What did you say?" Buffy asked the girl who had put her head down. She had spoken in a whisper that only Spike could have heard. Buffy put a hand on the girl's shoulder and had to fight to pull it away. The girl's despair was evident through the intimate skin contact. Buffy forced herself to continue and raised the girl's chin up to see into her eyes. When Buffy looked into the blue-green embers, her mind screamed to turn away. They were filled with love, hate and longing. And fear.

Tears raced down the girl's tanned face and Buffy held her gaze. She didn’t realize that she too was crying. "What did you say?" She asked the girl, this time her voice gentle and comforting.

"You promised," she choked out. Only Buffy and Spike were close enough to hear her. The vampire had waved the others off before they had a chance to smother the girl. Even a very reluctant Xander complied.

"Promised what, baby bit?" Spike asked. She looked timidly over at him and smiled nervously.

"Sh…she promised. But she didn’t…she," the girl turned back to Buffy, "you left me." The girl immediately turned away as Buffy's hands dropped. You left me. Those three words hit Buffy in a spot that was all too familiar. She understood the grief and pain going through the girl's head. Angel. Riley. Her dad. Giles. Thanks to them, the slayer was intimately familiar with the ache inside of being left by those that supposedly loved you.

"Family's not supposed to leave," she whispered. "Especially…"

"Especially what?" Buffy asked desperately. She knew that whatever the answer was, she wasn’t going to like it.

The girl turned around, her face stained with tears. The sadness was there but was coupled with something else as well. It wasn’t hate but a resigned anger…and disappointment.

"Especially you."

"Why me?" Buffy pled. "Why me? Who am I to you? Who are you?"

The girl laughed bitterly.

"I already told you who I am. Faith. Faith Joyce Summers. Your beloved daughter."

CHAPTER 12

It was a little after seven before Buffy and Spike decided it was time to leave. Dawn's exit had occurred only ten minutes ago with Faith in tow a few minutes later. Buffy had followed Faith upstairs but respected her wishes to talk to Dawn alone. She still needed to change before going out, though. She threw on a pair of black hip huggers and a tight black tank top. She shrugged into some black boots and tied her hair into a short ponytail. Sneaking a peak at herself in the mirror made her laugh. She looked like a miniature Spike. She grabbed her black jacket from the closet to complete the ensemble and her black gym bag with an extra change of clothes and weapons. With all that in tow, she made her way down the steps.

Spike waited patiently for her; his hands thrust deep within the pockets of his duster, his silver chain the only adornment across his chest. She had suggested that he borrow one of Xander's spare work shirts. It wasn’t a surprise that both men adamantly refused such a venture.

"Well, well," Spike said in his most seductive voice. He raised a scarred eyebrow at her deliciously. Most times it would have been enough to get her temperature up at the mere suggestions he intimated but it was different this time. Something was missing. She could see a hint of it in his eyes, though he hid it well. She put it aside for later and returned his flirt with a roll of her eyes he had no doubt come to expect.

"What Spike," she breathed, feigning annoyance. She stood at the bottom step. It granted them the luxury of meeting eye to eye. It had been too long for both of them and her proximity to him had alleviated Spike of the disturbing images Faith's words had established in his mind. Forgotten were her words of a hopeless future or Peaches and Buffy creating life. He wanted nothing more than to take her now and shag her senseless. No, that wasn’t quite the truth. He wanted more than that. He wanted to make love to her hard and slow. And he knew he wasn’t the only one as the air vibed with her desire for him. Her breaths came in shallow pants and her heartbeat had elevated significantly. Her physical response to him was almost enough to content him with their previously 'physical-only' relationship.

Almost.

"Can't help but to think you got all spiffy just for me," he smirked.

"Well, stop thinking that," she huffed, moving him aside. She gasped when her hand touched his bare chest but she didn’t stop. She dropped her bag at the door and addressed the Scoobies.

"Willow, Tara," Buffy said to the Wiccas that were still huddled in the recliner, "can you stay here with Dawn and Faith? Me and Spike are about to kick around for this locket and patrol a bit afterwards." Both women nodded their ascent. "Xander," she said to the man studying his nails on the couch. "I guess it's your job to fill Anya in on everything. Also, could you do some preliminary research? Pull some books from the shelves of the Magic Box. Look for references of a Sigma Order or Gabriel. And anything dealing with time travel and such," he nodded his acquiescence. "And any prophecies dealing with a slayer and vampire having a child," she added hastily.

"Gee, Buff, I'm gonna need a U-Haul for all this."

"Xander, please. And don’t worry about bringing them by. You can set them in the training room and I'll swing by early in the morning. I can look over them until everyone else is done for the day."

"Sure thing, Buffy," Xander said, giving her a warm smile before shooting a look of contempt towards the silent vampire.

Buffy turned on her heels and picked up the bag. "Let's go," she said simply to Spike. And the vampire and his slayer walked out into the damp night.

The deep gray of the storm clouds hung overhead, lazily floating through the air. The rain had stopped over an hour ago though a quick glance to the west hinted at an even stronger deluge of rain, wind and lightning. The nine figures that traversed the empty sidewalks of suburban Sunnydale did not care for what weather was ahead. They had only one thing in mind.

Kill the slayer's friends and bring her in unharmed.

Well, that had been actually two objectives but no one was really counting.

Despite the nagging pain in his ribs and shoulder, Primus fearlessly led the diverse group of demons to Revello Drive. The Slayer's humble abode.

It wasn’t that some demons actually knew where the slayer lived. But knowing and going there were two different things. Though most demons relished on causing torment to the families of their enemies, the slayer was a whole 'nother animal. Not many had survived to tell the tale. Well, none actually. But it wasn’t just her they feared. She wasn’t alone in her battle against the forces of darkness. No.

Of all people, rather demons, Spike, the slayer of slayers, fought loyally at her side. And though she would only kill those that bothered her and her family, Spike wasn’t as generous.

As they rounded onto the slayer's street, Primus shot a warning hand up toward the demons. They stopped and blended into the cover of darkness and foliage. There she was, dressed in black, followed by the platinum blond vampire. Primus' face sneered with hate at the sight of him. He was a traitor to his kind, consorting with the slayer. Killing vampires and demons alike to appease her. Primus would have called him soft were it not for the things-the horrible things, even by demon standards-he had done to certain demons whose tongues had been loosened by alcohol or virgin blood. Even the demon within Primus shuddered at the images he had seen several months ago. Spike had taken out Guiness and his gang single-handedly. There were comprised of six well-trained vamps. But he hadn't dusted Guiness. No, what he had done to the fifty-year-old vamp was beyond cruel and Primus began having second thoughts. What if he did that to me? He asked himself. But you know that Seth guy could do worse.

Primus snapped out of his thoughts as the slayer and her pet vampire disappeared around the other corner. He turned to his charges, a vicious smile crossing his face.

"Well, fellas, looks like the slayer is gone for the night. You three," he said, addressing the trio of Flanzen'da demons. They were about six feet and covered with greenish-gray scales. Razor sharp bones protruded from their head, elbows, shoulders and knees. They were perfect for battle and that was not even considering their dagger-like teeth and razor talons. They were extremely difficult to find, as they maintained a decent existence in desert climates. It just so happened that this trio of androgynous demons had been passing through town at the right time. "Aside from shadow man over here," Primus continued, "you are the only lot that can get into the house without the red carpet being rolled out for you. Whoever's in the house…" he smiled evilly, "kill 'em. The rest of us will take care of the slayer and her little boy toy." The demons all smiled at one another before splitting up. Primus, along with four rather large vamps and the shadow demon crept through the dark behind Buffy and Spike while the three Flanzen'da demons made their way stealthily to 1630 Revello Drive.

The walk to the bluff where Spike had found Faith was on the outskirts of town. It had taken them a little under an hour to get there by foot. What little words were spoken were grunts of complaint by Buffy why they couldn’t have driven. Though it wasn’t raining, it was cold and wet, two things that didn’t sit well with the residential slayer. Every time she uttered her disdain, Spike replied off-handedly that "Long walks build character."

Spike was astonished at his behavior on the walk. He never would have guessed that he could be completely alone with Buffy without spewing some sort of sexual innuendo or decidedly hurtful barb. But it was more along the lines of his mind's preoccupation with certain events than of his own volition. Finding out the woman you were in love with having a daughter by what was, for all intents and purposes, your father sometimes had a disquieting effect on you. So he walked, hands tucked deep into his pockets, eyes downcast. Buffy and Angel, he thought. How would it happen? When? More importantly, why? Hadn't he always been there for her? Despite her tantrums and harsh fists? And harsher words? What had Angel done? He had left her high and dry. That's devotion for you. The selfish git. Can't have all of her so you leave…

But isn't that what has crossed your mind? A voice said.

That was different, the cocky Spike answered.

So if you could have her heart but couldn’t become one with her, you could deal? The voice asked sardonically.

Spike wanted to say that he could deal. But if he did, he would be no better than what he accused her off. Denial. If he had done one thing wrong, it would have been to give himself to her-all of him. If only he would have thought…no, that wouldn’t have helped. Hadn't he told her and Peaches the very same things.

And his blood did scream. For her and her alone.

Buffy cast a glance toward her silent partner. Yes, Spike was her partner. Had been for quite some time. She could trust him to be there with her in a fight and the lives of her friends. Hell, she even trusted him with her life. Yet she refused to let him into her heart. She snorted to herself. The same thoughts continued to assault her day in and day out. Why couldn’t she get over him? And why wasn’t that the scariest thing?

The scariest thing was that she didn’t want to get over him.

A chill ran up her back as she felt his cool fingers touch her hand.

"We're here, luv," he said. She surveyed the area. They were on the slant of a semi-paved road that led to the bluff. From there was a good view of the city. It was quite similar to the one Angel would have used to greet the sun once long ago.

Angel. Now that was another thing entirely. But she refused to touch that subject. If what Faith said was true…

She shoved the thoughts to the side. She wanted, needed, to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Found the bit right about here," Spike said, his eyes scanning the foliage along the side of the road. "Shouldn’t be too hard to find," he told her.

"Of course not," she said sarcastically, "little silver piece of jewelry, lots of bushes, not much light. Should be a piece of cake." Spike looked and she absently brushed a wisp of hair from her face.

God, she’s beautiful he thought. Almost immediately, he felt the desire welling up inside of him. He whipped his head back to the task at hand, ignoring the little voice whispering for him to take her on the wet earth.

Concentrate, ole boy, he encouraged himself, tearing his gaze from her. Maybe it was the way the tank top accentuated her pert breasts or how her slim hips were visible through the black jeans, but all he could see was how she had look not moments before, arms crossed with that look of defiance on her face.

"It’d be right kind of you if you could help a bloke out," he told her sarcastically. She huffed dramatically before she begrudgingly started searching the brush a few feet away from Spike with a small flashlight. They searched for several minutes before he heard Buffy's ecstatic whoop.

"I am just way cool," she said, holding up an object that reflected the weak pulse of her flashlight. Despite his surly mood, Spike couldn’t help but grin at the young woman in front of him. She dangled the locket in one hand, a look of contentment etched on her face.

"Well, aren't we all chipper at the bit 'o jewelry," he said with his sarcastic-ness firmly in place. She cocked her head to one side and frowned. Her bottom lip stuck out and Spike couldn’t hold the smile down anymore.

"What?" She asked. "What's so funny?" Her hand dropped to her side and she put the item into her pocket.

"Come now, pet. I mean, it's one thing to give a bloke the attitude and all. But that…" he pointed to her, "is not fair."

She rolled her eyes indignantly, hands poised on her hips. That even made him laugh harder.

"I'm glad you are having a fun time laughing it up considering there isn't too much funniness going on over here." She stamped over to her bag and picked it up in a huff. She walked back toward town.

"Buffy wait," Spike said, jogging after her. His calls were ignored. Though he was sure that it was the fact his words were thrown in between chuckles.

"I was just joshin with you, pet." He finally caught up with her and was not prepared for what she did next.

In one fluid motion, Buffy tossed the duffel bag into a cropping of trees and Spike unceremoniously followed. He hit the ground with a thud, jarring his insides.

"Bloody hell, woman," he screamed, but she was upon him. Buffy jumped onto his abdomen and Spike expelled unnecessary air. She grabbed him by the wrists before he could react and pinned his arms to the ground. Spike could only stare up at her shadowed form, perplexed, before her mouth crashed down onto his.

Spike knew that if he could see himself now, his eyes were hanging in the sockets by the barest of threads. He was frozen, much like the time she had kissed him in the abandoned building. He was utterly and completely flabbergasted. But it only took a moment for him to shake off the haze and return her kiss with his own fervor. He parted his lips and snaked his tongue out to meet her increasingly impatient probe. He never understood how through such hard kisses he could still feel the velvety softness of her lips. With each kiss her desire grew and Spike felt her inching her hips down, closer toward his…

"Buffy," he moaned into her mouth as she ground her hips into his stiffening member. She returned his moan with an unintelligible whimper as she navigated her lower extremities in a circular motion against him. The heat between her thighs was like a blast furnace, even through the barriers. The warmth of her breath as she gasped into his mouth, not to mention her very vanilla-y fragrance, only added to Spike's arousal. He couldn’t take this. He needed to touch her, to shed off their constraints, to feel her against him.

He moved to get up but she was having none of that. Her grip tightened just enough to be uncomfortable and Spike grunted with satisfaction. She wants to be in control, he thought. Well, luv, I'm all yours. He relaxed his hands that only led her to re-enforcing her grip. Her heart was hammering in her chest and Spike could not help but smirk internally at his effect on the slayer. His slayer.

Her frantic kisses waned, replaced by softer, more passionate kisses. The urgency was still there, however, as if she would explode if he weren't inside of her. It had been so long since the last time. She had spent the last two weeks doing everything she could to distract herself from the hole she felt when she wasn’t with him. But everything she had done was only a reminder of him. The more she denied herself the harder it became. Of course, stubborn as she was, she was not about to admit that to him. Too much at stake she thought and was promptly jolted by the upward thrust of Spike's hips. She rode the electric shock as best she could, crying out into Spike's receptive lips. But she lost her grip on his wrists enough for him to wriggle free and flip her over. He leaned over her, very ready between her legs. Her body tingled with the anticipation of their lips touching again. But it never came. She craned her neck up, lips apart, her hands beckoning him closer. Though she couldn’t see him well, she could feel the weighed gaze of his eyes on her, transmitting all that he felt for her through his blue orbs.

"Buffy," he said breathlessly. She shivered as her name fell from his lips. At least when he calls me Slayer, I don’t have to worry about that, she mused. She placed one hand on his back while the other she ran through his platinum locks. She drew him closer. She needed to feel his cool lips against hers. And he seemed more than willing to oblige.

But before they connected with the familiar electricity, he stopped. Cocking his head to one side, he looked to his left and before Buffy knew what was going on, Spike had hoisted her to her feet.

"What?" she had a chance to say before all hell broke loose.