CHAPTER 10 - Interruptions

Buffy looked around the crypt then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Everything seemed to be in place. Candles were lit. Floor was clean. Blanket was folded up, ready to be used later. Blood and alcoholic refreshments for Spike in a cooler behind the sarcophagus in the back, along with diet soda for her - wouldn't do to be drunk - and now all she had to do was wait for her potential lover to turn up. By her reckoning, she had maybe another fifteen minutes or so before he made an appearance and she felt her nerves jangle in anticipation.

Willow's idea to trick Spike into coming out to the secluded tomb echoed of the attempt the vampire made to get the Slayer, herself, on a date a couple of months previously.

"Spike will see right through it, Will," Buffy had argued dubiously. "He did almost the exact same thing."

"I know!" the redhead had exclaimed with a huge grin. "That's why he'll never suspect a thing. Trust me. It’ll work like a charm."

“Yeah, a bad luck charm,” Xander had interjected dryly.

“Xander,” Willow had sighed in exasperation.

“No, seriously,” the carpenter had countered. “He’ll either totally ignore it cause he won’t let himself believe it or he realise what you’re trying to do and then ignore it because he’ll think he’s not worthy or something. I say stick with the punching.”

“Xander!” This time both Willow and Buffy said his name in frustration.

“What? I’m right!” He looked to his fiancée. “Right?”

“Yes,” Anya agreed with a nod. “Didn’t you say that you haven’t been physically abusing with him lately? No verbal either?” At the Slayer’s nod, she continued, “Well, I suggest you start if you want him to know how you feel. He probably thinks you’re not interested. You know how vampires react to violence. It’s foreplay.”

“Ok, Ahn, not really the support I was hoping for,” Xander had begun only to be cut off by Buffy’s groan of realisation as Anya’s words jogged her memory of another conversation.

“Of course! Third base! How could I have forgotten?”

“Uh-huh. You need to hit him at the very least,” Anya had commented ignoring Xander. “Although spanking would probably be a better option…”

“I take it all back! Will, your plan sounds great!” Xander had then suddenly enthused, successfully drowning Anya in the process. “Do you need us to do anything?”

Ignoring the ex demon’s scowl, Willow had shook her head. “No, Tara and I will make sure Spike turns up at the crypt and then it’s all down Buffy and her super feminine Slayer wiles to ensnare the angst filled, but still snarky, vampire.”

Buffy stiffened as a sound from outside suddenly forced itself in on her recollection. Holding still for a moment, she relaxed when she realised that it was probably just some animal snuffling around in the overgrown bushes. Letting out a sigh, she mentally ran over her planned greeting for Spike and hoped that would be enough to break the ice. If not then she had a back-up plan that she was absolutely certain…well, very hopeful anyway…would work.

Self consciously smoothing down her skirt, she glanced around the tomb once more then walked over to a sarcophagus in the corner and opened her purse. Pulling out a stake, she clutched it tightly in her hand then turned back to the door and waited for Spike.

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“If one of those vamp’s hasn’t already done her in, I’ll bloody kill her myself,” Spike muttered to himself as he came to a stop outside the entrance of Rosewood cemetery. It was one of the older graveyard’s in Sunnydale and as such, it hardly ever had any beastly goings on, the latter generations of demon much preferring the newer grave sites.

Bringing forth his demon, he entered the sacred ground at a trot and swung his head from side to side sniffing the air for the Slayer’s familiar scent. “Damn nuisance, she is,” he began to mumble to himself again, channelling his fear for her safety into an anger he could use in the fight ahead. “Always going off half-cocked, thinking she’s bloody invincible. Got a soddin’ death wish, that’s what she’s got. Can’t even wait five bleedin’ minutes for me to bleedin’ get here and watch her bleedin’ back!”

A soft breeze wafted through the cemetery and brought the vampire to a sudden halt as a trace of Buffy’s scent reached his nose. Emitting a low growl, he followed her aroma towards the back of the graveyard until he was stood outside a largish crypt. Looking above the door, he saw the name, ‘Sherman’, written in Victorian script and rapidly made his way to the entrance.

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Tingles of sensation ran up her back and exploded pleasurably in her neck as Buffy's 'spidey' sense kicked in, letting her know Spike was somewhere nearby. Why had she never noticed before how different the tingly's were when it was him instead of some random vamp? The fingers of awareness that wrapped around her nerve endings were always so much more rapid in their rush to heighten her alertness, more intense.

Of course, she knew that the reason she’d never noticed was the simple fact that she didn’t want to. Being able to single him out implied that she had feelings that she wasn’t prepared to acknowledge. The same feelings that she once had for the only other vampire in her life she’d been able to recognise the exact same way. Angel.

Thinking of her ex brought a small smile to her face and the knowledge that she still had to tell him about her newfound love. Truth be told, she’d been holding out on calling him because she wasn’t quite sure what to say. He’d left her to be happy with someone ‘normal’, whatever the hell that was, and phoning him to say that she’d fallen for another vampire…not to mention that it was Spike of all people…well, she just knew that that was going to go down like a lead balloon. They hated each other with a vengeance.

The sudden sound of footsteps outside brought her out of her internal ponderings and her grip on the stake she was holding, tightened. Moving closer to the door, she raised the wooden weapon and crouched down slightly, readying herself for his entrance.

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Desperate to get into the crypt and give Buffy whatever back-up she needed, Spike grabbed the handle and gave it a sharp twist, opening the door. Rushing into the dimly lit tomb, the first thing that hit him was the resounding silence which caused him to pull up short in surprise.

The second thing that hit him was an unexpected foot to the chest that sent him sprawling onto the floor of the crypt before he’d barely had any chance to register the lit candles that were dotted around the tomb. Because the attack had caught him unawares, he was unprepared for the impact and let out a loud growl, squeezing his eyes shut in pain as his head cracked harshly against the unrelenting concrete.

Momentarily stunned, he struggled to sit up but was stopped when the weight of someone landed heavily on his stomach, straddling him. Digging their knees into his arms, he then felt a hand wrap tightly around his throat and push him back down to the floor. The tip of a stake being pressed firmly against his chest coincided with him gathering up enough of his scattered wits to recognise the scent of the person that had him pinned.

“Slayer, it’s me!” Spike choked out. His golden eyes shot open in panic and was immediately greeted by the unexpected, but not unwelcome, sight of Buffy’s cleavage as she bent over him.

“Spike?!” she replied in wide eyed surprise.

At least, Spike assumed she was wide eyed. He hadn’t been able to drag his gaze away from the tantalising view of her breasts mere inches from his face. As she breathed, each rise and fall of her chest caused it to strain desperately against a flimsy piece of dark material that she probably called a blouse.

His own body hardened in response as he watched in fascination when she breathed in again. If he just stuck out his tongue he’d be able to run it all the way down that deep cleft…

“I’m sorry,” she said, her contrite voice breaking into his little fantasy. “I thought it was a vamp coming through the door.” She sat up and pulled the stake away from the place above his heart then shifted her legs slightly so that he regained control of his arms once more. “Did I hurt you?”

Disappointment at her removing his view was such that it took Spike a couple of seconds for what she’d said to sink in. When it did, he felt a self-righteous anger slowly start to course through his veins. How dare she sit there and speak to him in that pitying tone. He was a Master Vampire for Christ’s sake! William the Bloody! The Big Bad! Scourge of Europe! Not some weakling ponce of a twit with half a brain. He twisted his demonic visage in disgust. Had it really come to this? Even the Slayer was feeling sorry for him now? The only thing left that could possibly make his unlife completely unbearable right now would be to have the whelp walk in and offer him a hand up! God, he really was a waste of space!

Suddenly fed up with his entire existence, Spike shook out his aching arms and gave a derisive snort. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

“I wasn’t…”

“And I know it’s easy to forget, me being neutered and all, but technically, I am still a vampire, luv.” He pointed to his game face. “Look, fangs and everything.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“And yes, you did bloody well hurt me!” he continued, his voice rising with each sarcastic sentence. “You knocked me over and I cracked my head on the soddin’ floor! It’s not exactly going to tickle, is it?”

“Let me see.”

Before he knew what was happening, she dropped the stake on the ground beside him, bent forward again and placed her hands on either side of his head. Unsure of her intentions exactly, he immediately tensed and was about to open his mouth in protest when her hands started moving. Ever so slowly, she pushed her fingers through his soft blond hair, her touch tender, yet firm, as she checked for any signs of a possible wound.

Of their own accord, Spike’s eyes drifted closed and he felt his demon recede, along with his flare of anger, as he gave himself over to the sensation of her hands gently massaging his scalp.

“Tell me when it hurts,” Buffy murmured.

Spike forced his now blue eyes open and stared back deeply into the hauntingly green depths of those of the woman he loved, trying to read her expression. It was that moment that Spike wondered if the knock to his head was worse than he'd imagined and in reality, he was laying there out cold while the Slayer was bent over him slapping his face…if she'd even bothered to stay at all.

What other possible reason could there be for why she was doing this unless it was all down to his own fevered desires? He didn't deserve her administrations. Especially after the way he'd just spoken to her.

Her fingers continued their gentle movements and his hands curled into fists at his sides as he desperately tried to stop himself from touching her back. This was wrong…so why did it feel so right. 'No!' he told himself firmly, 'Not right. Never right.' He had to stop her. Right now. Before he didn’t have the strength to push her away.

He opened his mouth to say something but, as if sensing his inner turmoil, Buffy purposefully moved her hands around the back of his head. The seemingly casual movement was enough to bring the top half of her body flush against his, sending a jolt of awareness straight to his loins, hardening him even further.

Mouth shutting with a snap as he bit back a groan, his resolve took a further nosedive when her some of her hair fell forward to brush and settle either side of his head, effectively providing a curtain from the outside world. Its clean, fruity aroma mixed in with the scent of the Slayer’s own growing arousal assailed his nostrils, causing them to flare and he fought back the urge to nuzzle into its silky softness.

Not right.

Spike closed his eyes in an effort to try and resist the primal urges that were coursing through his very being but she was everywhere. Her warm breath on his face, her soft touch in his hair, her heated body against his. Opening his eyes, he glanced down in time to see her take another breath, the action forcing her chest to expand. With her surrounding him so completely, it looked, for a moment, as though she were naked. Control finally snapping, his hands began to move. He needed to touch her. Now. And to hell with the consequences.

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Fen tugged on the hand of the beautiful woman that walked alongside him through the cemetery and smiled as she glanced over at him. It had taken him exactly five minutes to persuade her to leave with him. A record, even for his standards. And being a Shilpa demon, her teleportation skills were second to none meaning that they’d reached this secluded graveyard in mere seconds. All in all, not a bad considering how the vampire had slipped through his fingers for a second time not long before.

"Why don't we sit down over here?" he suggested, indicating the bench he and his companion were almost level with.

She gave a small sniffle then nodded her acceptance as she let him lead her to the seat. Once they were settled, she looked at him again and offered a tiny smile. "It's good of you to listen to me," she told him in her softly accented voice.

Fen took in her ethereal countenance; the slight upturn of her yellow eyes, her dainty nose and generous mouth, all capped with long lengths of blonde hair that fell to her waist. She truly was exquisite.

He sighed. "Look at me,” he requested softly. She did as he asked and his gaze locked with hers. “I can do more than listen to you, if you'll let me, Azura," he promised, looking at her intently. “I can make it feel better.” He reached out a hand and gently laid it against her cheek. “Would you let me do that for you?”

She waited a beat then slowly nodded her head. She just wanted her heartache to end.

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Buffy was just beginning to think she was going to have to be even more forward in her advances when she felt Spike’s hands tentatively touch her knee’s.

Finally!

This hadn’t been what she’d planned when she’d knocked him down but the feel of his hard body under her, coupled with the excuse of checking for a head wound, had been too good an opportunity to pass up.

Letting out a soft sigh, she increased the pressure of her hands slightly, silently telling him that she liked what he was doing. In answer, he raised his eyes to hers then pressed his palms more firmly against her stocking clad legs before slowly moving his hands up her thighs until they came in contact with the lacey tops. Eyes widening, his hands paused briefly on their upward path to stroke a thumb caressingly along the raised material causing her breath to hitch and body tremble slightly as her heartbeat picked up even more speed.

His hands continued to roam higher, passed the lace and upwards until they reached the soft silkiness of her skin and for a fleeting moment, as he lay there beneath her, Spike wished he could see what he was touching.

Her stockings had been a surprise, especially since he'd expected the satiny material to actually be tights. Not that he was complaining. The smooth run up her legs that was broken by the gentle roughness of the lace, only to be followed by the even softer texture of her skin had him almost panting with desire. He could feel the heat coming off her in waves now and, eyes still locked with each other’s, he gave her thighs a hard squeeze. In response she jerked slightly then pressed down more firmly onto his chest, her pupils dilating dramatically as her grasp on his head tightened.

Spike watched in fascination as her pink tongue darted out to run along her parted lips letting out a soft moan that caused his hips to buck involuntarily up against her.

She gasped then gave him a purely feminine smile. “Is that where it hurts?” she asked softly as she returned the pressure of his thrust. “Want me to rub it better?”

'Hell yes!' Spike wanted to yell out but his brain, obviously in shock, had shut down his vocal chords and he'd lost all capacity for speech. After a couple more unsuccessful attempts, he finally croaked out, "Buffy, I…"

Whatever he'd been about to say was suddenly drowned out by the sound of a truly bloodcurdling scream echoing throughout the crypt, shattering the intimate moment into a thousand pieces.

They both tensed and stared at each other in surprise for a second then Buffy grabbed her stake and scrambled to her feet as quick as she could. "I have to go help," she said unnecessarily before heading for the door.

Spike lay where he was for a moment attempting to subdue his overwrought body while trying to figure out what the hell had just happened between the two of them. Cursing inwardly at the interruption, he stood up with fluid grace and followed the Slayer out of the door.

She hadn’t gone far and turned to him as he approached. “I can’t see or hear anything. You?”

The vampire tested the air for a few seconds then frowned. “Over there,” he said, gesturing to their right. “Not right sure what it is but it’s not human and after that scream, I doubt it’s breathing.”

“Neither do I but we should go look just in case,” Buffy replied, shooting him a regretful glance. At his nod, she stalked off mentally berating living on the Hellmouth and being subjected to its consistent bad timing.

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Giles got up from the couch and walked over to the door. “Yes, alright, I'm coming,” he called irately as the rapping of knuckles came again. As soon as he opened the door, Willow and Tara walked passed him and into his living room. "What…?"

"Giles, we think we saw the ugly demon tonight," Willow cut him off excitedly.

"Really?" he asked, pushing the door closed and turning towards the two women. "Where?"

"We saw him at Willy's when we went get Spike," the redhead explained. "And I've gotta say, ugly doesn't even begin to describe him. On the Repulsive-o-meter, he rates a clear one hundred and sixteen."

"And then some," Tara concurred with a nod.

"Did Spike confirm it was indeed the demon he'd seen before?" the Watcher queried with interest.

Willow and Tara shared a quick look before turning back to Giles. "Uh, Spike had, uh, just left when the, uh, ugly guy turned up, so, no, he didn't confirm," the redhead lied, shooting another glance at her girlfriend.

Tara nodded her agreement. "T-t-that's right. No c-confirming," she corroborated, her stutter coming out in full force as, she too, fibbed to the Watcher.

"Yes, well, if you think this could be the demon we're after then at least we have some idea of what he could look like now," Giles mused aloud, too caught up in the possibility of solving his research problem to notice the witches less than eloquent recitation of supposed events.

"Yes!" Willow agreed wholeheartedly. "Books, research, find. Not a problem. Should we go to the Magic Box now?"

"Actually, I've brought some books home with me, so…"

"Even better," the redhead interrupted enthusiastically as she took of her coat and placed it over the back of his couch. Looking around the room and drawing a blank, she turned back to Giles and asked, "Where are they?"

"In my room. I'll just go and get them," the Watcher replied. Gesturing to the kitchen, he added, "Help yourselves to a drink and something to eat. I shan't be a minute."

They watched him walk out of the room then turned to each other and both let out a long sigh.

"We're doing the right thing, aren't we?" Willow asked her lover plaintively.

"Sure we are, sweetie," Tara answered reassuringly. She reached up and cupped the redhead's face lovingly. "I don’t think Giles would be very understanding if we'd told him that Spike was actually talking to the guy."

"Or that he got all avoidy and denial guy afterwards either," Willow added as she placed her hand over Tara's and leaned gently into it with a smile. "Best we try and talk to Spike ourselves. Let him know that we heard the threat and see if he tells us what's going on."

Tara nodded then leaned in and gave Willow a tender kiss, only pulling back when she heard Giles returning. "Time to hit the books," she said with a grin.

"Oh, goody," the redhead replied, the excitement evident in her voice and features. "I'll go make us a drink and then we can make a start on finding the uber ugly."

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Buffy let out a long sigh and cursed her luck as she stared down at the corpse at her feet. When she'd decided to use this cemetery, it was because of notable lack of demon presence within the area. She certainly hadn’t expected to find another victim of the recent apparently self-inflicted deaths.

"And baby makes three," Spike commented sardonically as he looked up from his crouched position to where Buffy stood at his side.

Big mistake.

Once they’d left the crypt, Spike had got his first good look at the Slayer and any thoughts of attempting to calm his raging libido had flown clear out the window for the next six months…at least.

Realising that Buffy was staring back down at him, he quickly tried to drop his gaze but his eyes defied his brain and lingered over her top. The fitted satin look material was black inlaid with red, the colour most predominant was dependant on the amount of moonlight that bounced off the iridescent garment.

Cut low at the front, its boned, tight fitting bodice showed off her chest to its fullest advantage. The sleeves were short and split down the middle to fall in loose folds at the top of her arms. The back was also cut low and had a single long, string lace that zig-zagged across the middle expanse of the material acting as a lace-up that when tied into the neat bow it was now, pulled the garment even tighter.

If that wasn't enough for the poor vampire to take in, the top then finished just above her navel leaving her tanned, highly toned and extremely touchable stomach blatantly on display.

Still ignoring his brain, his eyes dropped further down her body until it rested on her black, soft suede, skirt that stopped just below her knees and rode low on her hips. Each side had a split up to mid thigh that allowed him to catch a glimpse of her lacey topped stockings as she walked.

All in all her choice of clothing left little to the imagination…well…his imagination anyway.

"So another one that looks like suicide," she stated, breaking into his thoughts and finally bringing his gaze to her face once more.

He watched as she flipped some of her long hair over her shoulder exposing the smooth line of her neck. His eyes locked onto the point where her pulse throbbed against her skin then swallowed hard before tearing his gaze away and nodding curtly. "Looks like," he replied, standing up and taking a couple of steps back to a safer distance before reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. He needed something to occupy his hands before he gave into the temptation to touch her.

"But you still don't think so, do you?" she questioned with a frown.

He put a cigarette to his mouth then lit it and exhaled the smoke before glancing in her direction. He knew without a doubt that Fen had something to do with the murdered female laying between them, there were still traces of his scent on the body and lingering in the air. He also knew that he didn’t want Buffy getting involved. Fen’s magic was strong and he didn’t want her anywhere near him. Time for some evasive action.

"Got no evidence to prove otherwise," he finally answered with a shrug. He looked back down at the corpse pointing to the cuts on the ankles. "A Shilpa demon's essence is in its feet. That's the way they'll do themselves in every time. Slashing the ankles is just like humans slashing their wrists except instead of blood pouring out, it’s their spirit."

Buffy carefully stepped over the dead female's body and bent down to get a closer look. The movement caused her skirt to tighten across her backside and, unable to resist, Spike tilted his head slightly and studied the view with a small smile.

"But again, there doesn't appear to be a struggle," she commented before straightening up and looking back at the vampire who had resumed his impassive expression. "You said something about the essence being taken? Do you think that's what we've been missing here? Rather than the blood it's been all about their essence's instead?"

"Could be," Spike replied slowly as he stiffened imperceptibly, his senses suddenly alerting him to the fact that something…someone was watching them. Not noticing the change in him, Buffy made a contemplative sound, then looked back down at the dead demon, allowing Spike to furtively scan the surrounding area in an attempt to pinpoint the location of the unwelcome presence.

Just as in the alley, it stayed on the edges of his awareness and, with sudden clarity, the vampire knew that Fen was still around. 'Cheeky bugger,' he thought to himself as he tried to damp down the fear that was beginning to rise. He didn't want a confrontation with Buffy around. If anything happened to her and he couldn't stop it…

"I'll talk to Giles in the morning and see what he thinks," the Slayer was saying as her voice broke into his thoughts causing him to refocus on her once more. “I just want to do one more quick sweep…”

"No!" Spike interjected sharply then, at her sudden frown, he hastened to add, “I mean, it’s late, you don’t want to miss more of the whelp’s party than you already have, do you?” Before she could respond, he flicked his cigarette butt away then bent over and picked up the lifeless body. Hefting it over his left shoulder, he said, "I'll just get rid of this and you can be on your merry way." He began to walk off hoping that she'd follow him. It worked.

She let out a loud huff and started trailing after him. He slowed his pace so that she could catch up and then shot her a glance. She looked annoyed but if it kept her safe, he was happy.

Buffy walked by his side inwardly seething with frustration. This night wasn't turning out how she'd hoped or Willow planned. They'd been so close in the crypt and now they were back to square one again. Spike had seemed so receptive earlier but was now pushing her away again and she was seriously considering Anya's suggestion and saying, what the hell, before letting him know that she knew everything, punching him in the face, then shagging his brains out until he couldn't walk straight. The whole guilt trip thing could be dealt with afterwards.

Except, she somehow recognised that it wouldn't. For once, taking it slow seemed to be the way to go with Spike. She'd realised that in the tomb when she'd virtually had to coax a reaction out of him.

Okay. Take it slow. Keep it sneaky. And get him the heck back to that crypt so we can finish what I started.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced over at his set features then spoke, keeping her tone light. “So,” she said, breaking the silence that had settled over them as they trudged to the exit of the cemetery. “Once you’ve got rid of the body, how about coming along with me to the Bronze?”

Anticipating his usual refusal, Buffy casually raised a hand to her right ear. Being that she was walking on his right, he didn’t notice when she surreptitiously gave a tug on the golden hoop that was attached to her lobe and grasped it in her palm.

“I think I’d better head on back…” Spike began, only to quieten when the Slayer let out a cry of dismay. “What’s wrong?” he queried coming to an abrupt halt and looking around half expecting to see Fen's hideous features grinning back at him from out of the night.

“I’ve lost my earring,” Buffy replied with a tut. “It was one of my favourites too. I bet I lost it in that crypt.”

The vampire relaxed then sighed irritably and began moving again, wanting to get her out of the area quickly. “You've got loads of baubles, Slayer, surely one little earring's not going to make a difference.”

“But these are special,” she insisted, her bottom lip starting to jut out as she jogged slightly to catch up with his suddenly faster pace. She grabbed his arm and brought him to a halt, pulling him around so that they faced one another. Giving him a pleading look through her lashes, she pushed her lip out further and coaxingly said, "They were a present."

"Slayer…"

"Come on, it'll only take a few seconds to go back and check," she persisted. She was about to turn away when she noticed Spike's eyes suddenly widen in alarm at something he saw over her shoulder. "Spike? What?"

"Buffy, duck!" the vampire ordered urgently.

She responded immediately and dropped to a crouch, feeling the disturbance of the air as something whizzed over her head. She looked up in time to see Spike jerk backwards, a taloned hand missing his face by mere inches. Pushing herself up, she stood next to Spike and turned around to face their assailant.

END CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11 - Battling

"Oh crap," Buffy muttered as her gaze took in the five hulking Monu demons that were spread out around them effectively cutting off any hope of escape. And of getting back to the crypt any time soon. That fact alone ticked her off more than anything else.

"Sorry, luv," Spike suddenly murmured from beside her.

She looked up at him, her eyebrow arched questioningly. "For what?"

"For getting you involved with this twit," he replied in a low voice, slightly inclining his head towards the Monu who had taken a swing at them. "Reckon he’s here for some payback for the other night and looks like he’s brought some friends."

Before Buffy could comment, the aforementioned demon, spoke. "I see the Slayer’s taking you out for a walk herself tonight, Spike. Does she clean up after you as well?"

The vampire let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. "Oh, change the bloody record, you prat," he ground out dismissively. "Either just do this or sod off. Got places to be."

The Monu snorted angrily. "You got lucky last time but it won’t happen again. This time I’ll personally make sure I rip you in half." He shot the silent Slayer a nasty glance before looking back at Spike. "After you’ve watched us slice and dice your precious Slayer, that is."

"You know, Spike, you were wrong," Buffy began conversationally. At the vampires' questioning gaze, she continued, "These guys are even more stupider than they look."

"Luv, it’s probably not wise to agg…" Spike began, only to be cut off by the enraged Monu.

"I was going to make this quick for you, Slayer, but now I’ll make sure you feel every inch as I slowly carve my name in your gut," the demon hissed as he gestured for the rest of his gang forward.

"You can spell? I’m impressed," Buffy retorted, bringing forth the stake she still held in her hand.

With a roar, the Monu launched himself at the blonde only to be stopped halfway by the body of the Shilpa demon Spike had been carrying, slamming into him. He fell to the ground and ripped viciously through the body, tearing it asunder before standing once more. Turning to face the two blondes, he saw them already engaged in battle with the rest of his gang who had paired off and were taking them on two against one. Looking from one to the other, he took a determined step forward having decided which one he wanted to kill first.

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Willow yawned widely then gave her girlfriend a tired smile. "I think I’m all researched out for tonight."

"Me too," agreed Tara, stifling her own yawn.

"Yes, let’s call it a night, shall we?" Giles suggested as he removed his glasses and rubbed his weary eyes. "We can reconvene at the Magic Box tomorrow morning if you’re available? We may find what we’re looking for in one of the books there."

Willow nodded then closed the tome in front of her and raised her arms in a stretch. "Good idea. About nine-ish?"

"Fine," the Watcher replied, putting his glasses back on and standing.

Willow and Tara grabbed their coats and put them on then went to the door. Giles followed and opened it for them, standing aside so they could exit. "I’ll…uh…I’ll leave it to you to contact Buffy, shall I? he asked as they stepped over the threshold, his relief almost palpable when the redhead immediately nodded her head. The last thing he needed was to phone his charge first thing in the morning only to have Spike answer. Some things were better left ignored.

"Yeah, I’ll call her before we go to the store," Willow replied, turning to look at him.

He nodded and gave her a tired, but grateful, smile. "Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Night, Giles," the girls answered then headed off home.

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Spike stepped to the side, dodging a lunging Monu and delivered an upper cut that stunned it sufficiently for the vampire to gain a choking headlock. The second demon he was fighting got up off the ground, from where Spike had laid him out moments before, and took a run at him but the blond used the captured demon’s head as a battering ram and the demon found himself flat on his back once more. Just as Spike snapped his Monu’s neck, he heard Buffy yell a warning but it was too late. The leader smacked into him from behind causing Spike to tumbled over.

Already having despatched one of her foes, Buffy quickly drove her stake into the neck of the second and hurried over to help her love. The leader was standing over the fallen vampire and had just raised his arm to deliver a fatal blow when she kicked his legs out from under him.

Spike rose gracefully to his feet and spun around to face the other remaining Monu while Buffy continued to fight the leader. Punches and kicks were traded while talons were dodged until Spike finally managed to turn his adversary’s hand in on himself thus impaling the Monu on his own talons. As he sank to the ground with a gurgled cry, the sudden pained yelp of the Slayer had the vampire spin around in panic.

"Buffy!" he exclaimed urgently, his stomach twisting as his senses were assailed by the sight and scent of her blood as she lay prone on the ground a couple of yards away. "No!"

Before the leader even had time to glance over at the vampire, he was tackled to the ground and sharp teeth were viciously tearing into his neck. Spike eventually pulled back and stared down at the dying Monu, his bloodied mouth twisting into a sadistic smile. "Don’t worry. Not gonna finish you off." He tilted his head slightly to one side, his smile widening to reveal his elongated incisors to their maximum effect. "Just gonna let you lie there so can feel your pathetic excuse of an existence drip away." He pushed a finger into one of the jagged puncture wounds in the Monu’s neck and moved it around, opening the hole up even further causing the demon to cry out in pain. Removing his bloodied finger, Spike held it up in front of the Monu’s face and pointed it downwards so that the viscous fluid started to fall off the end. "Drip, drip, drip," he said each time a drop of blood landed onto the leader’s face.

The Monu’s breathing grew harsher as Spike then used his chest to push himself up to stand and, with one last hateful glare, hurried over to Buffy. "Where are you hurt?" he asked in concern, his demon automatically receding as he dropped to his knees and helped the injured Slayer as she struggled to sit up.

"My arm," she replied, wincing as she used her left hand to lift her right arm up to his gaze. "Just a scratch. No biggie."

Spike’s eyes widened in alarm as he took in the deep ragged gashes that adorned the inside of her arm just below her elbow. The flow of blood was already beginning to slow and he couldn’t stop the surge of longing that raced through his body at the heady delights in front of him. Fighting his internal demon, his eyes tracked the wound down towards her hand and any thoughts of her taste fled when a bolt of absolute terror sliced through him. The Monu had come close to hitting the artery at her wrist. Too close. Another few millimetres and…He broke off the thought and swallowed hard. This was all his fault.

Damping down the fresh wave of guilt that accompanied the latest addition to his ever growing list of failures, he commented dryly, "Just a scratch, eh? What would your arm hanging off by a piece of stretched skin be classed as then? A slight cut?"

"More of a nick, actually," she countered just a dryly as he helped her get to her feet. "It’d have to be totally sliced off and me hitting you over the head with it to get anywhere near being called a cut."

Despite his worry over her injury, Spike couldn’t help the quirk of his lips at her wry demeanour. Gotta love that Slayer spirit. Gotta love her, period.

"Come on, Slayer, let’s get you back to my place where I can get you sorted," he offered, taking a step towards the exit.

"Chance would be a fine thing," she muttered to herself as she started after him, ignoring the weak groaning that was coming from the rapidly expiring Monu and the keen stinging sensation that encompassed her right arm.

"What was that?" the vampire asked abruptly, turning his head to look at her with narrowed, faintly quizzical eyes.

Apart from a slight widening of her eyes, Buffy covered well. Remember the super enhanced hearing you idiot, she mentally admonished herself before answering the other blond. "Um…I said I wanted to go find my earring."

The vampire looked heavenward and rolled his eyes. "I’ll come back later, alright?" he told her sharply. "Now, let’s get moving, shall we?"

Knowing not to push it further, she resigned herself to the fact that phase two had been a resounding flop thanks to the Hellmouth’s many ironic little surprises. So, with Willow’s plan thoroughly out of the window she only had one option left. Time for Buffy to start thinking on her feet.

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Fen followed the battered couple out of the cemetery and watched them head off down the sidewalk. At least, now he knew who was causing the blond so much emotional pain. It would prove a valuable asset when he finally got him alone.

He sighed and, after one last look at the couple, turned away. Who would have thought that a vampire would be so completely in love with the Slayer? Oh, the sweet irony of it all. More than ever, this reaffirmed his job in life.

And if there was one thing he took seriously, it was his work.

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Spike pushed open the door to his crypt and ushered the Slayer inside, guiding her over to his chair. Seeing her settled, he hastened over to the hole in the floor that led to the lower level and jumped down. Within seconds, he was back by her side carrying various bandages, some gauze and a bottle of antiseptic.

"This’ll probably sting a bit," he advised as he knelt by her feet and tipped some of the fluid onto the gauze. Taking her hand in his, he turned it palm side upwards then rested her arm on the arm of the chair and began to gently dab around the tears in her flesh.

Even though he was being careful, the first touch of the antiseptic seeping into her wounds caused Buffy to tense and draw a sharp breath. Spike glanced up and gave her an apologetic smile before bending his head back to his task. Diligently, he cleaned up every bit of the congealed blood that surrounded the gashes, all the while steeling himself against the feelings of remorse that flooded through him every time he heard her gasp or felt her flinch in pain.

Putting down the sullied gauze, he cast an experienced eye over the wound and looked up at her regretfully. "Could need stitches," he informed her quietly.

The Slayer’s reaction was instantaneous. "No! It’ll be fine. Just bandage me up," she replied with a shake of her head, the thought of going to a hospital lighting a spark of fear in her eyes. "Please," she whispered when it seemed as though he might argue the point. He held her gaze for a moment longer then gave a brief nod of assent. Picking up the not-so-white dressing he’d pilfered from somewhere, he then began wrapping it firmly around her arm.

She watched his nimble fingers as they smoothed over the binding, checking that it wasn’t too tight and was reminded of the feel of his hands as they glided over her thighs earlier that evening. The rush of wetness between her legs was immediate as was the way her body temperature rapidly rose, suffusing her in a warm glow. Eyes still on the vampire, she noticed him pause for a second in his ministrations, almost as though he knew, then carry on his movements until he ripped the end of the dressing a couple of inches down the middle before tying the ends off into a neat little bow.

"How’s that feel?" he asked, keeping his gaze averted even though his hand still held hers lightly.

"Good," she replied, willing him to look up at her. The husky tone of his voice told her that was aware of her arousal and she wanted nothing more to act upon it but she remembered, just in time, her vow to go slow with him…God dammit!

"Good," he repeated, still not looking at her but seemingly unable to let go of her hand either.

"Spike?" The soft sound of his name brought his gaze to her face and she smiled warmly. "Thank you," she said before leaning forward and pressing her lips lightly against his in an act that was reminiscent of the time after Glory’s torture.

Then, as now, when she pulled back, Spike simply stared at her with a mixture of confusion and amazement. She smiled at him again and gradually, his dazed expression cleared to be replaced by something more intense. Something that caused her breath to catch in her throat. Pure adoration blazed in the cerulean depths, drawing her in and igniting the answering spark that she had been keeping at bay for this one particular moment.

His gaze dropped to her lips and his grip on her hand tightened momentarily before loosening to begin slowly sliding up her arm. His other hand lifted and reached out to gently cup her face.

‘Yes! Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!’ she thought frantically, her breathing growing heavy as her tongue darted out, moistening her lips in anticipation.

Focussed solely on her mouth, her involuntary action caused Spike's own lips part slightly as he slowly moved forward. Just as their lips were about to touch, his hand ran over her wound causing her to draw in a sharp breath as she automatically grimaced at the sudden jolt of pain.

Spike froze, his eyes snapping up to meet hers as the guilt crashed over him once more. 'Your fault she's in pain,' his brain reminded him nastily. 'If you'd fought better, Buffy wouldn't be sitting here with her arm ripped to piece's. Failure. Useless. No right to touch. Not your world…'

"No!" he said curtly as he drew back from the Slayer and stood up, taking a couple of steps away in the vain hoping that distancing himself would somehow dispel the taunting going on in his head.

"Wha…?" Buffy said as she blinked dazedly, trying to comprehend the fact that he’d suddenly moved away. She looked up at him and saw that his features had perfectly sculpted into an impassive mask leaving her to wonder if she’d merely imagined his heated look not seconds before.

"Arm’s bandaged, Slayer," Spike was saying as the fog in her brain cleared. "Guess you should be going now."

"Going?" she repeated blankly.

"Harris and his bird’s party at the Bronze," he reminded her flatly, head down. "Be a shame to waste the outfit."

Buffy stood up slowly and took a step towards him, noting that he immediately took one back. She stopped and stared at him. "You really want me to go?" she asked softly.

"Doesn’t matter what I want," he replied quietly.

"Of course it does," she refuted taking another step forward only to have him move away again. Frowning, she quickly replayed the last couple of minutes back over in her mind and tried to figure out what had caused his sudden withdrawal. It came to her in a rush and her gaze softened at her realisation. "Spike, listen to me, this wasn't your fault," she told him, holding up her injured arm. "It was mine for not getting out of the way quick enough."

"Wasn't your fight," he stated adamantly. "Shouldn't have been involved in the first place. Should've just left me."

"Left you?" she repeated dubiously. "Alone? Against five Monu demons? Are you kidding me?"

The vampire bristled at her disbelieving tone and straightened up to look at her. "Could've took 'em," he retorted huffily.

"Yeah, right, and I would've been treading in bits of Spike for the next month," she countered sardonically, her temper starting to flare. Did he really think she thought so little of him that she’d actually leave him there?

"And no doubt it'd probably still be my fault for messing up your shoes," he muttered bitterly as he looked away in aggravation. Why the hell did he have to touch her bloody arm? He could be snogging her right this minute, maybe even more, but no; no, he had to go and have another attack of the guilts. Pathetic. Absolutely, pathetic.

Feeling her control start to slip, Buffy tried to cling onto it with both hands but failed miserably. She was sick and tired of playing the 'pretend I don't know' game and more than fed up with Spike's continuing remoteness. She'd had enough of abortive seduction attempts and as for reining her temper in? Not a hope in hell!

"Alright, that's it! I've had enough," she snapped, her tone furious. "I know all about your little guilt trip over Dawn and it’s so ridiculous!"

Spike stiffened and turned his narrowed gaze to hers as her admission penetrated his mental flagellation. "That right?" he drawled coolly.

"Yes!" she all but screamed in frustration.

"Why?" he demanded, a dangerous glint flaring in his eyes. "Cos a soulless demon like me can’t feel?" he accused in a clipped tone. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Amazing how you always accepted my feelings of hate easily enough but when I flipped the coin over, all of a sudden I couldn’t have emotions! Love, hate, same coin, different sides, Slayer, no matter what you want to think."

"This isn’t about what I think…" she said heatedly.

"Wrong! It’s got everything to do with what you think…what you thought," he refuted coldly.

"God! You’re wallowing in so much self-pity, you can’t even begin to imagine what I’m thinking anymore, Spike," she told him angrily.

"Well, why don't you enlighten me then?" the vampire goaded mockingly, knowing he should stop but unable to keep his mouth shut. "Go on. Tell me how I failed to protect Dawn. Tell me how I failed to protect you."

"I don't need your protection…"

"No, you don't need anything from me, do you?" he interrupted harshly, his own temper coming to the fore as he lashed out, hurt by her quick dismissal of him. "Don't even know why you bother coming here anymore. Don't need you. Certainly don't need any of your bloody Scoobies poking their noses in my business. Got by just fine before and will do again." He turned away and strode over to the door of the crypt jerking it open before looking over at her expectantly.

Buffy stared back at him in dismay. She knew he didn't really mean what he'd said but that didn't make the words hurt any less. "You know, tonight sooo didn't go how I planned it and right at this moment, after what you've just said, I don't know what the hell I still see in you. You’re a stubborn-assed, totally blind, pig-headed, badly bleached, stupid old…old," her mind groped wildly for something cutting to say when one of Willow’s sayings flew into her head and straight out of her mouth. "Poophead!"

An eyebrow quirked at her name calling, but before the vampire could respond, the Slayer marched over to the door and stopped level with him. "Oh, and one more thing," she said brightly before hauling back and letting fly with her left arm, landing a hard punch square on his nose.

"OW! Bloody hell, woman!" he shouted as he cupped his hands over his nose, trying to stem the blood flow. Eyes watering from the pain, he barely made out the grim smile of satisfaction that graced Buffy's face before she turned on her heel and stalked out, closing the door behind her with a resounding slam.

Bollocks.

END CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12 - Closure

Willow dropped her bag on the floor and took off her coat with a sigh. Dropping it onto a nearby chair, she turned to Tara. "So looking forward to my bed tonight," she said with a wide yawn.

Her girlfriend, having shed her own coat, lowered her head slightly and smiled coyly as she looked at the redhead through her lashes. "Me too."

Willow froze mid stretch and gazed back at Tara, a slow smile appearing at the hint of promise in her lover's eyes. Suddenly, it hit her that they had the whole night ahead of them. A whole uninterrupted night ahead of them. Without another word, she turned to her bag and rooted through it until she pulled out her cell phone with a triumphant look and switched it off. Buffy was with Spike, Dawn was safe at her friends house and Giles had probably gone to bed. The only one left who could possibly ring was Xander and she wasn't about to be distracted at a crucial moment just because he decided to play one of lame prank phone call jokes on them.

Turning back to Tara, her smile widened into a grin as she walked over to where the blonde stood and pulled her into a heated kiss.

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Buffy's temper saw her all the way home until she entered her house where the emotion promptly dissipated, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth. Leaning back heavily against the front door, she closed her eyes and felt the regret of her actions wash over her. "Way to go, Buffy," she congratulated herself mockingly. "Got injured because you were careless then lost your temper and lost your man. Not bad for a nights work. Even for you."

Pushing away from the door, she flipped on the light switch and headed for the kitchen, picking up the phone on the way through. Entering the kitchen, she turned on the light then switched on the kettle. Flopping down onto a nearby stool, she punched in a number then held it to her ear. What she needed right now was a good old-fashioned, 'Men!' rant with her best friend.

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Spike sniffed hard and pinched the bridge of his nose as he worked his jaw from side to side, trying the ease the throbbing that emanated from the centre of his face. "Bloody bint always goes for the soddin' nose," he grumbled irately as he walked over to the fridge and opened it up.

Bending over, he reached in and pulled out a bag of blood, then straightened and let the door swing shut. Ripping the bag open, he drank the contents down quickly, trying to minimise the unpleasant prospect of actually tasting any of the cold, bland fluid that he could. When he finished, he crumpled the plastic bag in his hand and threw it uncaringly over his shoulder.

Hunger somewhat appeased, he walked over to the chair in front of the television and sat down. On the small table to his left sat an almost empty bottle of whisky and shot glass. Pouring himself a drink, he downed it then poured another and sat back forcing himself to unclench his hand on the glass before he inadvertently crushed it as he tried to get a grip on his jumbled emotions. Jaw set, he stared unblinkingly at the switched off TV and tried to think of anything but a certain Slayer and the argument they'd just had.

Six and a half seconds he lasted…and that was only because he focussed on counting them off in his head. Six and a half pathetic seconds before the petite blonde forced her way into his thoughts as surely as she'd forced her way into his heart.

Knocking the second shot back, he poured the remaining alcohol into the tiny glass and grimaced when it only filled up to halfway. He needed to get more if his head were to make it through this night with anything vaguely resembling sanity.

It was all his fault, obviously. If he hadn’t spouted off to the witches in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened. Still…didn’t need her pity. Had quite enough of his own going on thank you very much. Something she had pointed out to him in no uncertain terms. Wallowing, she'd said and she was right. He was wallowing. And he was damned if he didn't know how to stop it.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his anger started to recede as he thought back over the past couple of weeks and for the first time felt a tiny spark of annoyance over what he suddenly realised he'd so glaringly become.

"I'm a bleedin' Angel clone!" he suddenly exclaimed aloud in disgust. "William the Bloody Great Poof, they'll be calling me soon."

Downing the half glass, he slammed it back down on the table next to him so hard that the legs gave way with a loud crack, sending the empty bottle and glass crashing to the floor. Ignoring the mess, he got up and started pacing around his crypt, his revulsion at the realisation he was even remotely near as broody as his grandsire only adding to his… well…brooding.

Coming to a stop by the chair, he glanced down at the broken glass and cracked table top upon which the used gauze still rested. He reached down and picked it up then stared at the patches of dried blood that covered it. Slayer's blood. Buffy's blood. The now familiar feeling of worthlessness started to rise up but Spike closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the emotion as his hand fisted tightly around the cloth.

"No, no, no," he ground out. Opening his eyes, he threw the gauze to the ground as if the very cloth were aflame and turned around, heading for the door. 'Get a drink. Get pissed. Get through tonight,' he thought to himself as his boot came in contact with something small on the ground and inadvertently kicked it a couple of feet in front of him. The light clinking sound and the brief flash of a shiny object bouncing across the stone floor caused him to halt abruptly and seek out the source.

Taking a step, he frowned then bent down and retrieved a piece of golden metal. Holding it up, he realised it was an earring. Buffy's earring judging by the scent that clung to it. 'Silly chit's lost both of them now,' was the first thought that ran through his mind but then his frown deepened. He was positive that she had still been wearing one when she stormed out of his crypt. His mind easily produced a picture of her turning to face him just before she delivered her punch. Her hair had swung out around her face, in exactly the way he loved, and he'd bet a thousand kittens that the twin to the piece of jewellery he now held was still safely attached to her ear.

So how did that explain this then? Shouldn't this be sitting gathering dust in the Sherman crypt? And talking of dust, considering there should have been a vamp nest there that Buffy had disposed of, he didn't recall seeing any telltale piles of remains from his, albeit, one quick glance around. He remembered candles. Lots of candles, but no dust. Odd.

Although he knew that things had got heated between them a couple of times tonight, he thought it'd been due to circumstance and his own weakness. Giving into his base urges when he had no right. Now, though, he began to wonder if there had been more to it than that. And if there was; what would that mean for him?

'Tonight, so didn't go how I planned it,' she'd said. 'Don't know what I still see in you.'

Words that could mean something, especially if he twisted them to his wishful way of thinking. Refocusing on the earring, he stared at it a moment longer, then put it into his duster pocket.

First things, first. Go to the Sherman crypt and take a look around. If he found another earring and piles of dusty remains…well…then, at least he'd be halfway to Willy's where he could get himself a bottle or four. But if he didn't…

The vampire refused to allow the thought to form and continued on his way to the door. He'd deal with that little quandary if the need arose.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Buffy pressed a button on the phone with a tut, abruptly ending the automated voice that directed her to leave a message at the other end. "Great," she muttered in frustration at not being able to contact Willow.

Frowning, she tapped the handset against her bottom lip contemplating who to try next. Giles sprang to mind but she knew that he'd just get all embarrassed if she tried to discuss what had happened and probably stammer his way through a trite platitude that he didn't really mean in the first place.

It was too late to speak to Dawn, not that she particularly wanted to go down that road anyway, which left one other person. Xander. Buffy sighed. Not a normal choice for this sort of phone call but she needed to talk with a friend badly. Dialling his well known number, she placed the receiver to her ear and listened as it began to ring on the other end.

The bell trilled four times before going into their answering machine and Anya's voice filled her ear. "Hi. Xander and I aren't available at the moment, probably because we're either saving the world from another apocalypse or having sex. Either way, we won't get back to you for a long while so it's probably not worth you leaving a message."

The beep sounded and Buffy automatically spoke cheerily. "Xander, it's me. Don't worry, it's nothing important, I'll talk to you tomorrow." She was about to hang up when she brought the phone back to her ear and added dryly, "Oh, and Anya changed the message again." She cancelled the call and dropped the handset down on the work surface with a muttered curse.

The kettle clicked off behind her and, as she got up to make herself a drink, she briefly considered calling Dawn anyway but quickly decided against it. She didn't need a lecture about how much this situation was her fault from her little sister.

Drink made, she placed it on the counter top and sat back down on her stool. Grabbing up the phone, she held it out in front of her as a realisation of who else to ring began to take hold. Someone who knew Spike even better than she did. Someone who could maybe give her some insight into the workings of the vampire's mind. Someone who was going to hit the roof when she revealed her feelings for the bleached one. She rejected the idea several times mentally arguing that it was ridiculous but couldn't seem to shake the persistent little voice that egged her on to make the call. 'That'd be desperation,' her mind provided sarcastically. 'Or stupidity. Only things it can be if you're even considering this now.'

"Oh, what the hell," she mumbled to herself as she began to dial. "Gotta do this sometime anyway. Two birds, one stone."

The sound of ringing came down the line and Buffy took a couple of deep breaths as she tried to steady her suddenly erratic breathing. The ringing stopped and Buffy licked her dry lips nervously as a male voice greeted her. "Hello, Angel," she greeted in return. "It's me."

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The crypt loomed ahead of him and Spike hastened his pace torn between either confirming his suspicions or quashing them for good. He came to the door and after a moments’ hesitation, he lifted his hand and pushed the protesting wood slowly inwards. Three steps had him over the threshold and surveying the interior curiously.

Candles were dotted all over the tomb, their flickering light casting soft shadows about the room lending it a romantic ambience…to his mind anyway. Walking to the centre of the crypt, he crouched down and ran his hand along the floor. Lips pursed in concentration, he lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers together slowly.

Nothing. No vamp dust. Not even much dirt. Standing up, he took a slow walk around the tomb and noticed the considerable lack of cobwebs and thick layers of dust that were usually part and parcel of a long forgotten mausoleum.

"Well, I'll be…the whole bloody thing's been cleaned," he murmured in amazement. Investigating further, he found the blanket plus the cooler full of blood and soda behind a nearby sarcophagus. With startling clarity, Spike stood stock still and gazed dazedly in front of him. "She planned this," he said in an awed voice and then, moments later, his face twisted into a look of pure disgust. "I was right, the bloody chit planned this and I went and buggered everything up with my stupid pride. Once a git, always a git, eh, Spike?"

Shaking his head in self-annoyance, he abruptly turned and headed out of the door and into the night. Time for a little chat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Buffy?" Angel queried in surprise, concern flooding his features moments later as he sat bolt upright. Calls from Buffy rarely boded well. "Is something wrong?"

"No…well, nothing apocalypse-y wrong," she hastened to assure him. "Just thought I’d call, you know, for a friendly chat."

The ensoulled vampire frowned slightly as he relaxed back into his chair. "A friendly chat?" he queried dubiously.

"Well, yeah," Buffy replied, suddenly realising that the pesky internal voice that goaded her on was definitely stupidity. "I mean, we’re friends, right? And we’re talking, so see? It’s all friendly chatting and stuff. I mean, I know we don’t do it that often…chatting, that is…but I always figured, you know, we could…"

"You’re babbling," Angel cut in, his amusement evident.

Buffy stopped talking and smiled wryly. "I am, aren’t I? Sorry."

"It’s okay," he replied, still a little confused as to why she’d called. He could tell she was nervous and for all her denial, he was certain that she’d called him for a reason. "So, was there anything in particular you wanted to chat about?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah," the Slayer admitted. "I’ve got something to tell you but I’m just not quite sure how I’m going to say it, that’s all."

In L.A., the dark-haired vampire could appreciate her predicament. There was something he’d been putting off telling her about as well. As soon as he’d heard her voice down the line, however, he knew he that he couldn’t let the opportunity slide any longer. "Actually, I’ve got something to tell you, too," he began.

"I know you’re not going to like it," Buffy continued as if he hadn’t spoken, building herself up to make her confession.

"It’s kind of awkward to explain," Angel said at the same time, so intent on finishing what he’d started that he didn’t pay attention when she resumed speaking.

"There’s this guy…"

"There’s a girl…"

"You know him, actually…"

"You know her…"

"Although, he’s probably the last person on earth you’d think of…"

"I don’t think you’ll ever guess…"

"He’s changed."

"She’s changed."

"There’s really only one way to say this…"

"Guess I should just come on out with it…"

"I’m in love with Spike."

"I’m in love with Cordy."

Silence descended over the line as both waited for the other’s response to their own revelation until they each suddenly realised what the other had said.

"You’re what?!" Buffy exclaimed loudly, bolting upright so quickly that she almost fell backwards off the stool. Grabbing a hold of the counter she harshly demanded, "Are you out of your mind?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" Angel retorted, partially stung by her incredulity and partly aghast at what she’d just admitted. "Spike for God’s sake? He’s evil, Buffy. You can’t trust him."

"I can," she refuted curtly. "He’d rather die than let anything happen to me or Dawn. Or any of the Scoobies if it comes to that."

The vampire snorted derisively. "Yeah, I’ll bet he’d be the first one to push Xander out of the way of an oncoming truck."

"Oh, like Cordelia can fit in saving the world between all the shopping, manicures and hair appointments," she countered sourly. "I can just see her now, axe raised, ready to strike then right at the last moment, shock, horror, she breaks a nail. Bye, bye, Angel. Bye, bye, world."

"At least she has a soul."

"That’s a matter of opinion," the Slayer said wryly.

Angel gritted his teeth angrily. "I told you, she’s changed."

"Yeah? Well, so has Spike."

"A vampire doesn’t change his fangs, Buffy."

The Slayer opened her mouth to make a cutting reply when what he said registered. Of its own volition, her lips curved up into a smile and she giggled, the silliness of the situation suddenly hitting her. "Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually just said that," she said as another chuckle escaped her mouth. "What are we arguing about? We’re both as bad as each other. I mean, you falling for Cordelia? Would never have seen that one coming in a million years."

Against his will, Angel found a smile tugging at his own lips as her apparent mirth filtered down the line. He could understand her shock. Cordelia wasn’t the…easiest of people to get along with. "Yeah, kinda took me by surprise too," he admitted with a smile as his mind conjured up a visual of his love.

"And me falling for Spike? Also not an obvious choice and if I’m honest, it’s not one I ever imagined would happen."

"Me either," he muttered with feeling. Then, unable to stop himself, he added, "And I still say you can’t trust him, Buffy. The chip is just a muzzle…"

"I know, I know," Buffy cut him off with a heavy sigh. "Believe me, Angel, there’s nothing you can say that the gang haven’t already said. Or that I haven’t told myself. It doesn’t matter. I love him and you’ll save yourself a lot of wasted breath if you just accept it." She frowned as she realised what she’d said. "Not that you have any breath to waste exactly…but you know what I mean." When he remained silent, she let out another heavy sigh. "Look, why don’t we just agree to disagree and get the heck on with our lives?" she suggested. "It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve made bizarre choices on who to love. I mean, look at us," she pressed softly.

"Probably not the best example," Angel commented dryly, finally breaking his silence. "But…I know what you mean."

They both lapsed into silence as they lost themselves in the painful memories of their doomed love affair until Buffy quietly asked, "Hey, if I said I wished you luck with Cordelia, would you do the same for me?"

"Would I wish you luck with Cordelia?" he repeated lightly. "Sure; although I doubt you’d get anywhere…she’s pretty into me you know."

Buffy chuckled. "I’m glad you’re happy," she remarked then frowned. "But, not too happy, right? I mean, how goes the soul and everything?"

"Wes came up with a spell that gives me with unpleasant mental images when I near to…uh…perfect happiness," he explained hesitantly.

The Slayer pulled a face. "Oh, that’s gotta be a downer," she said sympathetically, her eyes then widening slightly at her gaff. "Er…but not physically, I hope? Not that you have to answer that because, eww, so don’t need the imagery."

"To be honest, the spell’s only worked once," Angel admitted reluctantly. "It acts like a deterrent mostly. Now I know what I’ll see…well, let’s just say it’s not pretty."

"Wow…that’s…that’s great. I’m pleased for you. Both," she told him, ignoring the little pang of disappointment at the fact that they’d never managed to think of a spell like that when she was with him.

"Thanks," he replied.

"Well?" she asked, after a slight pause.

"Well, what?"

Another lengthy sigh. "Never mind. I guess I’d better just go," she muttered, flatly.

"Okay, okay," the vampire relented as he raised his eyes heavenwards. "As much as it pains me to say this…I…I’m…good luck with…Spike."

Even though he almost spat the blond vampire’s name, Buffy felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Everyone knew…except for Spike…and everyone was being supportive…well, in their own way of course. "Thanks, Angel. It means a lot."

"Yeah, well, if there’s any sort of comfort I can get from this, I guess it’s the fact that I know he won’t leave you…unless you want him to, that is. Never knew any vampire quite like William when it came to love," Angel told her quietly.

"Yeah, well, gotta be together first for him to leave me, right?" she replied dully.

The vampire at the other end of the line frowned. "What? But I thought you said you loved him?"

"I do," she affirmed quickly. "And he loves me too. Has done for a while now."

"So?" Angel prompted. "What's the problem?"

"Everything," the Slayer mumbled as she rapidly blinked back the sudden sting of tears that had appeared in her eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," Angel said as he settled back into his chair more comfortably. "Tell me."

Haltingly, Buffy explained everything from the time Spike first declared his love, to Glory, to the gang's acceptance of Spike and of her feelings, right up to Willow's plan and the argument she had had with the blond only an hour or so before. "He's being so stubborn," she finished frustratedly. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

Apart from commenting quite strongly about Spike chaining Buffy up in the beginning, Angel had listened to the rest of the tale in silence. Now, however, he knew that Buffy was expecting him to come up with a perfect solution but he wasn't sure that he could. Yes, he knew Spike well, but the vampire she was describing now wasn't the same one who'd wreaked devastation alongside him for more years than he'd care to remember. He'd only known the evil killer, not the ally. In fact, the only thing he recognised being the same as the Spike he knew was the unflagging devotion to the one he loved.

The guilt hadn't been as much of a surprise to him as it obviously had to Buffy and the gang though. In the past, even when Spike was at his most murderous, he had always displayed what, at the time, Angel had considered to be weak human tendencies. Especially when it came to Drusilla. Jealousy and hurt being the prime examples and mostly directed towards Angel himself. So no, guilt over letting Dawn get hurt wasn't really a surprise, more like an expectation.

"You still there?" Buffy asked, pulling him out of his reflection.

"Yeah, still here. Just thinking," he said.

"No idea's though, huh?" the Slayer asked unable to keep the hope from her voice despite her words.

"Nothing that'll give you the certainty I think you're looking for," he admitted reluctantly. Then suddenly, something clicked in his brain and slow smile spread across his lips. "Actually, I take it back. I might have a little tip on how to make him come around, after all," he revealed in a teasing tone.

"Really?" asked Buffy, feeling a small surge of excitement at the possibility of having a way to finally reach Spike. She listened intently as her first love began to speak, her eyes widening slightly as a grin made it's way to her mouth. "I think I could manage that," she commented, her mind going into overdrive as she mentally ticked off what she'd need. "Halloween's only a couple of weeks away. If I haven't got him by then, that'd be the perfect time."

"Let me know if it works," Angel requested.

"Will do and thanks, Angel…really, I…I appreciate it."

The vampire smiled. "Hey, what are friends for?"

Buffy grinned at that and felt the last of her awkwardness slip away. "I'm glad we can be friends, Angel. I didn't want to lose you over this. What we had was good. Really good. But, I think what we both have ahead of us could be better. Even though we do both think the other completely whacko."

Relief flooded through his body at her confirmation of their newfound friendly status and the slight guilt he carried over loving Cordelia now instead of her faded. It felt good that they could be friends. Like her, he'd been worried that she would not want anything more to do with him which was why he'd held off on making the call but all that was forgotten now that they'd come to an understanding. It'd still take him a while to get used to the fact that she loved his impulsive grandchilde but get used to it he would. Like it, however…well, that was something else altogether.

"I guess I'd better go," came Buffy's voice, once more jolting him out of his internal musings.

"Yeah, must be getting late there," Angel observed as he glanced at his wall clock.

"Yeah."

"Well, I hope you get things sorted out, Buffy. You deserve to be happy and if Spike can do that for you then…" he stopped, unable to actually give his blessing in words then quickly changed the subject. "If you ever need anything don't hesitate to call, okay? I'll always be here for you, Buffy, don't forget that. Just because we're not together, it doesn't stop me worrying about you or…loving you." There was a slight pause, before the vampire hastened to clarify in a slightly panicked tone, "I meant as a friend, that is."

Not even having crossed her mind that his declaration was meant in anything other than a friendly way, Buffy bit back the giggle that threatened to escape at his obvious trepidation. "I know, don't worry," she assured him soothingly before impulsively adding, "Love you too, Angel."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Spike approached Buffy's house and felt the doubt start to set in. What if he was wrong? Almost immediately, he shook his head, rejecting the question. No. No dust, remember you prat?

Thrusting his hand into his pocket, his fingers closed around the earring and he felt his uncertainty lessen. Pulling out the small piece of jewellery, he clung onto it as if it were his very salvation as he came to a stop in front of Buffy's house.

He briefly debated whether to knock on the front door but decided he'd head around the back and go in through the kitchen. Not that this was what he normally did, it just gave him a few more seconds to compose himself before he faced her.

Stealthily, he made his way around the back and climbed the few steps to the rear porch. Almost immediately he stilled as he looked through the window and saw her sitting on a stool next to the counter. She was in profile with the telephone pressed to her ear, talking to someone. Probably Willow, he surmised. Noticing that the window was open slightly, he inched closer telling himself that he wasn’t eavesdropping, merely putting himself in a position to hear any words that might accidentally slip outside. After all, wasn’t his fault if the Slayer couldn’t keep her voice down, was it?

Seconds later, his face clouded as he overheard the one thing that could destroy his entire existence as easily as a stake to the heart.

"Love you too, Angel."

Jaw tightening, he closed his eyes trying to blot out the incredible pain that seemed to encompass his whole body, freezing it in place. This couldn't be happening. He didn't just hear that. She wasn’t on the phone to Angel telling him she loved him.

"Night, Angel."

Only she was, he acknowledged miserably as he felt his whole world shatter into a million pieces around him. ‘Leave, leave, leave,’ his mind ordered in an attempt to induce his legs to start moving. It took a couple of seconds before his limbs actually decided to co-operate and when they did, he threw the earring he’d all but crushed in his hand to the ground then took off at a run.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Buffy and Angel bade each other goodnight and as soon as the Slayer terminated the call, she suddenly felt freer than she had done in years. Despite her initial misgivings upon phoning him, she realised that it had provided her with the closure she’d not been aware she needed. And, she suspected, it had provided the same sense of conclusion for Angel as well.

The door to her past now well and truly closed, she could look to Spike…and the rest of her future.

Spike. As soon as she thought of him the familiar tingle tickled her neck for a couple of seconds, then just as quickly stopped. Rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand, she dropped the phone on the counter and spun around, looking out her back door. Was he here?

Hurrying over, she wrenched open the door with a huge smile and stepped out onto her porch. "Spike?" she called, looking around hopefully. "Spike?" Her smile faded at the answering silence and she sighed. Deciding she must have conjured up the sensation because she'd been thinking about him, she cast one last lingering look out into the darkness, then turned around and went back inside. Locking the door behind her, she switched off the light and made her way up to bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Before he knew it, Spike was in the centre of town heading towards Willy’s determined to drink himself into oblivion in record time.

Sick at heart, he called himself all kinds of fool for stupidly convincing himself that the Slayer cared anything for him at all. That phone call proved once and for all who her affections truly lay with and he'd been a prat to forget it.

Angel. Of course it was Angel. It was always bloody Angel! And he was just a monumental idiot for ever imagining that tonight was anything other than it was…a sympathetic head pat for helping out followed by a swift kick up the jacksie in a less than patient effort to snap him out of it.

He shouldn't have been so surprised. Really, he shouldn't. She'd told him in no uncertain terms over and over again what she thought about him and no amount of word twisting and wishful thinking was ever going to change that.

But, God…it hurt. So much. Too much.

He was lost so deep in his unhappy thoughts that when a faint chill ran up his spine, it took him several seconds to realise what his brain was trying to tell him.

Fen.

Coming to a stop, Spike turned slowly around on the spot trying to get a fix on the demon’s whereabouts. The shiver along his back grew in intensity and he headed off to his right determined to track the murderer down.

Trouble was, after tonight, he was no longer so sure that once he found Fen, he'd try and resist his magic…it was looking more like he'd simply let himself succumb.

END CHAPTER 12

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