Summary: Buffy finds herself the object of somebody’s affections. At first, she’s flattered, but then it turns sinister. What happens when the scariest thing she’s ever faced, DOESN’T go bump in the night?

Spoilers: Through season 5- ‘cept, Buff y doesn’t die in the Gift.-I so hate contrived plot devises. *snicker*

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Must I really go through this? If I owned it, James Marsters would be tied up in MY bathtub.

Distribution: You know the drill,

Stalk Her

Kneeling in his hiding place, deep in the trees, a man waits. He is soon rewarded when the object of his dreams comes into view. She’ was humming some mundane pop song, a stake in her hand, her arms swinging gracefully by her sides. Her tiny, yet powerful body was being lovingly caressed by a pair of denim shorts, and a purple halter top. Her long, blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. A slight smile touched her glossed lips as she walked, seemingly not having a care in the world.

She frowned, as if contemplating something, not sparing the fledgling that pushed out of the ground next to her a glance. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the stake flying. The fledgling burst into dust, and she bent to retrieve the wood, never breaking her reverie.

The man sighed, love reflecting in the crazed depths of his eyes. She was a goddess, pure and strong. Righteous and untouched. Like the goddess Athena, her strikes were straight and true. God had touched this beautiful creature before him, and he was blessed just to be allowed to gaze upon her.

His blood heated as he stared at her. She had come to a rest on the top of a headstone. Her head was titled back to look up into the sky. Perhaps she was wanting to rejoin her brethren in the Heavens. Surely, something so bright, and so beautiful was not long for this earth.

His hand traveled to the hardness in is pants, as he drank in the smooth lines of her back. He wondered, briefly, if she could feel him. If her pausing right in front of him was a sign. Maybe she was telling him, ‘Yes, I will be yours. You are the one that I will allow to be purged by my goodness.’ Joy swept through him at this thought. If only he could touch her, he was sure that he would be saved. The horrible things he had done would be forgiven, and then they could lay in each others’ arms and await the kingdom of heaven together.

He was touching himself in earnest now, shame creeping through his joy. He knew he was defiling the very thought of her by doing this, but he couldn’t stop. This was a testament to his own weakness, to the darkness that burned within his soul. The fact that he would want to do the foul and disgusting things that were floating through his mind, was a confirmation of his wickedness. She was goodness and light. He was evil and dark. And as his seed spilled across the foliage at his feet, he cried, apologizing to her back for his weakness.

As he tucked himself back into his pants, her heard her speak. His head whipped up to see who she was talking too, and realized that her head was turned in his direction. He shrunk back a little, afraid that she would see him, but quite sure she was seeking him out. He warred internally what to do, until he heard her call a name. A name that was not his. A name that belonged to a creature that shouldn’t even know her.

Rage flowed in his veins, when he realized that she was actually seeking that creature out. He watched as she whirled and shrieked, said creature standing behind her. His eyes burned into her back as she talked to it, its bleached hair shining in the moonlight. When the creature started to walk away, the man gave out a short lived sigh of relief. No sooner had the thing started away, when she called it back. He then watched as they talked for a quiet moment, then turned and proceeded on together.

He stepped out of the trees as they walked past, careful not to rouse their attention. His angry, mad eyes followed them until they disappeared from sight. He then turned and walked in the opposite direction, fury clouding his mind.

Chapter One

Buffy walked idly through the cemetery, humming. The tune had been stuck in her head all day, slowly driving her crazy. At least the mall piped in popular music, and not that crap that sounded like it had been played in a tin can by tone deaf mice. Of course, if Dawn ever caught her slaying vamps to the tune of “Bye, Bye, Bye”, she’d die of embarrassment.

In the light of that thought, it was probably good that the teen was gone for the summer. She stopped humming at that. Her eyes scanned the sea of headstones in front of her, searching for anything to slay. Anything to get her mind off her fifteen year old sister living it up at the beach with her friends.

At first, Buffy had given a resounding ‘NO’ when Dawn had first asked to go. It had been barely a month since they had defeated Glory, and she had not wanted to let Dawn out of her sight. The girl had alternated between stony silences, and tear filled begging to change her mind. But Buffy had stood strong, and Dawn had become increasingly frustrated.

Then, one night after patrol, Buffy had woken the girl up and told her she could go. Dawn had thrown herself into her sisters’ arms with an excited squeal. She never asked what had changed her sisters mind. And the Slayer would have never admitted it anyway.

The next day, Buffy had helped her pack, gave her some money and a calling card (a hint to call as much as possible) then, kissed her goodbye. As she had watched the car drive off into the day, her mind replayed what a certain peroxided pest had said to her.

“Just because you can’t have a normal life, doesn’t mean that Niblet can’t. She should have all the experiences that you couldn’t, luv.” Then, he had searched her face with his blue, blue eyes, lit a cigarette, and said goodnight.

She watched him until his blonde head had faded from view, the wheels spinning in her head, as she turned over what he had said. He was right. And as much as that thought galled her, she couldn’t deny it.

So, here she was. Strolling through the cemetery, humming boy band songs. All while her sister worked on her tan, and flirted with boys. Buffy couldn’t help the small pout that formed on her face.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her stake flying into the heart of the fledgling that had popped up to her right. Her steps hadn’t faltered as she continued her brooding. It wouldn’t be so bad, she supposed, as she bent to retrieve the stake. Not to bad at all to have the house to herself, if she hadn’t found herself TOTALLY alone for the summer.

Xander had gotten a construction job in L.A. for the summer. He and Anya had left that morning. Willow and Tara had gone on a Wiccan retreat. They were hoping the trip would help Tara through the trauma of being brain sucked by Glory. Giles had gone to England, having been called over by the Watcher’s Council. They wanted the report on defeating the Hell God in person.

Even Spike had been MIA since he’d seen her on patrol a week ago.

A scowl formed across her face. *I must be really desperate for company, if I’m wondering where the vampire is.* she told herself. But something about it seemed false. Almost automatic to deny any friendly feelings towards him.

Hopping up on the top of a headstone, she tilted her head back to study the star filled sky. Thinking about the blonde always elicited two opposite reactions with her. The first, stake him. Evil, undead, killer. That was from the Slayer side. The second, he was tortured for you, was a big help with Glory, and says he loves you. Not to mention he was a certified hottie. But, that was the girly side, the one that stubbornly refused to see Spike as JUST a monster.

“I know I’m monster. But you treat me like a man, and that’s. . .” For not the first time, Buffy found herself wondering what he had been about to say. Shaking her head, she pulled her confused thoughts away from the blonde vampire and took a deep breath of the cool night air.

It was at that moment that a tingling feeling started in the back of her neck, like she was being watched. A look between a grimace and a smile crossed her face. Turning her head, she peered into the dark trees behind her.

“Come out, Spike. I know you’re there.” She waited a beat, expecting to see the flare of a lighter as he lit a cigarette before joining her. When nothing happened, Buffy stood up and turned. Placing her hands on her hips, she cocked her head to the side. Irritation started to spread through her, and she scowled again. “Spike, this isn’t funny.”

“Pet?” An un-Slayer like squeak escaped her as she whirled around to face the man at her back.

“DON’T DO THAT!” she yelled, her right hand flying up to her speeding heart. Spike’s scarred eyebrow shot up at her shrill tone. He reached up and scratched said eyebrow with his thumb, a cigarette smoldering between his index and middle fingers. The paper bag he was holding in his right arm rustled with the movement.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, taking a drag. Rolling her eyes, she walked over to him, grateful for the distraction. The uncomfortable tingling had eased, only to be replaced by a different, but no less unnerving feeling when she stopped in front of him. Pushing it aside, she gave him a tiny smile.

“No, its okay. Just got a little case of the wiggins, I guess.” The scent of tobacco and leather drifted to her on the breeze, teasing her nose. She knew, if she moved just a little closer, she’d smell tat wild, earthy scent as well. She kept her feet firmly planted where they were.

“S’alright. Slow night?” he asked, waving his hand towards the general area.

“Yeah. I was just getting ready to head home.” she pointed her thumb in the direction of her house.

“Right, then. I won’t keep you.” He gave her a half salute, smoke waving in the air from the movement, then started towards his crypt. Before she had time to think about it, she called out to him.

“Hey, Spike?” he stopped, and turned to face her with a questioning expression on his face. It was then that a peculiar scent caught his attention. He sniffed the air, trying to place it. When he realized she was waiting for an answer, he shook it off.

“I’m sorry, luv. What did you say?” She gave him an exasperated look, but repeated herself.

“I asked if you wanna come with? I’ve got some hot cocoa with those little marshmallows you like.” She told the voice in her head that was shouting *What are you doing!?* to shut up. The thought of going back to her empty house, alone, wasn’t as appealing as it had been ten minutes ago. And Spike’s company was better than none.

He blinked once, in surprise, the blue depths clouding with wonder. In that instant, his face was stripped of its usual hardness, giving him the look of a little boy that had just been given an unexpected treat. It was the same look that Buffy had seen when she had invited him back into her house.

“You sure?” he asked, insecurity dripping from his voice.

“I wouldn’t have asked, if I wasn’t, Fang Face.” She teased, smiling. He returned the smile, and swaggered over to her. His smirk was once again, firmly in place.

“So,” he started, as he fell into step beside her. “Dawn get off alright?”

“Yeah. Xander and Anya are gone too. Some construction job in L. A.” she replied. The blond couple moved off into the night, their voices fading with each step they took. Their observer stepped out of the trees, his eyes burning into her back until she was completely out of sight.

Chapter Two

“GAH!” Buffy moaned when her alarm clock penetrated her sleep hazed brain. A hand shot out from under the blanket, silencing the offending object with a sharp slap. Raising her head and opening one eye, she moaned again. 8 a.m. Wonderful. She’d been asleep for exactly three hours, and now she was supposed to go to work?

“So not going today.” she mumbled, reaching blindly for the phone. After three attempts, her fingers finally closed around the receiver, pulling it to her.

She left a message when she got the machine of the small gift shop, trying to sound sick instead of tired. She then hung up and flopped her head back onto the pillow. Trying to get comfortable, she shifted, her mind replaying the night before.

Spike had stayed until almost dawn. *Stupid vampire.* she cursed, half heartedly. She knew it wasn’t his fault, really. He had made a token attempt to leave, a couple of times. But she had bribed him with another cup of cocoa. The unease she’d felt in the cemetery hadn’t let up, and she didn’t want to be alone.

He must have sensed it, because, he hadn’t become insistent about leaving until the sun was threatening to fill the sky. She had briefly considered telling him to stay, then abruptly slammed the door on that thought. A big NO to sexy, bleach blonde vampires spending the day on her couch. Way to tempting to even consider. So, she had said goodnight as he hefted his bag and took off at a run to avoid the sun. Then, she double checked all the locks and crawled up to bed.

With a sigh, she turned over and snuggled into the bed. Her hand brushed across something soft laying on the other pillow. Cracking her eye open again, she found herself staring at a blood red rose. Smiling a little, she reached out and plucked it up, bringing it to her nose. She breathed deep the sweet, rich scent.

She wondered when Spike had come back. It never occurred to her that it would have been impossible for him to do so. She just told herself to yell at him later, all the while relishing in the romanticness of it. Sighing again, she stretched to place the flower on her night stand. It lay there, it’s color vivid against the white paint, like a splash of blood on newly fallen snow.

She closed her eyes again, determined to go back to sleep. Her mind, however, had other ideas. Images of the blonde vampire kept sliding behind her closed eyelids, causing a now familiar flutter to start in her stomach. The way he cocked his head to the side, staring directly at you when you talked. The way his sapphire eyes burned into you when he did it. If he cared what you had to say, he’d listen to every word. Even when he didn’t care, he still heard it all. The way his body moved when he fought. He was graceful and quick, sleek and lean. Her mind even offered her a picture of what he might look like naked. Which brought up the memories of when Willows’ spell had them totally in love with each other.

“Ahhg.” she groaned, burying her head under her pillow. *Not a good idea to remember the way his mouth felt against yours, Buff. That leads to BAAADDD thoughts.* she told herself. But, no matter how she tried, her traitorous brain kept reminding her. And her even more traitorous body responded. Her skin heated up as she imagined his cool lips sliding against her hot flesh, his hands setting fire to her senses.

“This is not the way to get to sleep.” she mumbled, as her subconscious invented a new way to torture her. Now it was bringing to mind the contradictions of his personality. He had been one of the most vicious and evil master vampire’s she’d ever encountered. She’d never been able to kill him, only getting close that one time. But then, he could also be the one of the most devoted and gentle of mates. She’d never forget the look on his face when she’d held that stake to Druscilla’s heart. She’d also never forget the pang of jealousy that had thread its way through her heart.

She had known, even then, that hers and Angels’ relationship never held that amount of devotion. He had proven it by walking away from her after graduation. He hadn’t bothered to say goodbye, just stared at her for a long moment before disappearing into the night. It always seemed that all they could do was hurt each other, and they did it very well.

His departure had led her straight into Riley’s arms. Buffy groaned inwardly at that, not even wanting to go there.

Then there was Spike. No matter how many times she had told him to get lost, threatened him, or was just a total bitch to him, he stayed. He’d helped with Glory without hesitation. And no thanks from her, she thought guiltily. She remembered when Dawn had first told her he was in love with her. She had freaked. Absolutely, one hundred percent spazzed. Even had him uninvited from her house when he’d had an open invitation since before he had been chipped.

Granted, he hadn’t helped his cause when he’d chained her up. Then he’d offered her up to Dru if she didn’t tell him there might be a chance.

“I’m drownin’ in you, Summers. I’m drownin’ in you.” Even now, those words tugged at a part of her she didn’t want to admit was there. She had been able to see the vulnerability and torment swimming in the blue depths of his eyes. He didn’t want to love her. Knew it was wrong with every fiber of his undead heart. But, it didn’t stop it from being true. And, despite her objections to the contrary, she had known it was true. He loved her, and proved it by almost dying to protect Dawn.

That was the day that she had stopped seeing him as just another vampire. He had started to become and almost friend. An extended member of the Scooby gang. An ally. A rueful laugh bubbled out as she thought of the ridiculousness of her life.

She was the vampire Slayer, with a soulless, chipped vampire in love with her. Another giggle escaped as she stretched. Throwing her arms over her head, she scooted further into the comforting warmth of her bed. Forcing all thoughts away, she was finally able to go back to sleep.

*~*~*~

He was sitting in the dark, the only light coming from the computer screen in front of him. The

Slayer’s sleeping features filled the monitor, the slightly grainy look doing nothing to detract from her beauty. A shaking hand reached towards the image to trace a finger over her slightly parted lips. She had found his gift, the memory of her smile fresh in his mind.

He had been angry with her at first, for allowing that thing into her home. But, after he had thought about it, he remember that her kindness was part of what he loved the most about her. Of course she wouldn’t hurt a creature that couldn’t defend himself. She had faltered once, with one of his kind, but surely she wouldn’t do so again. She was just showing compassion and thanks to something that had helped her through a hard time.

For so long, he had watched her, wanting her. Now, it was almost time to reveal himself. Then, maybe, when she was his, he could absorb the goodness that she carried with her, and cleanse his black soul. He just knew that she could save him, clear that darkness that was getting harder to control. It spoke to him, even now as he gazed upon her purity, telling him to do unspeakable things.

“NO!!” he screamed into the stale air. She would NOT be tainted by his sickness. He rubbed the silky material of his stolen prize over his face, feeling himself calm. It was almost as if her essence clung to the satin, its pureness seeping in through his skin. With perfect clarity, he knew that this would not last. As soon as he released his treasure, he would move out into the town and give in to the urges inside of him.

Almost as if he had resigned himself to it, he turned from the computer, rising to pad naked to his closet. Choosing his clothes carefully, he laid them out on his bed. With one last look at the screen, he walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Later that evening, Buffy sat at the kitchen table, eating take out Chinese, and watching the small t.v. her mother had bought before she had died. The too cheerful voice of the brunette, female anchor was grating on Buffy’s nerves. As she stood to turn the channel, the story Ms. Chipper was reporting caught her attention.

“A grisly discovery was made this afternoon, at the 1200 block of Maple Avenue.” Buffy did a mental map check of the address. She frowned a little when she realized it was a suburb on the edge of town, not prone to vampire attacks. The demons usually stayed to the more heavily populated areas, as it was easier to find victims. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the t.v.

“The young woman was 21 year old college student, Sherylin Montgomery. She was found in her home, brutally murdered. Due to the nature of her injuries, the exact cause of death cannot be disclosed. Sunnydale police are urging anyone who had seen Ms. Montgomery over the last three days to please step forward for questioning.” A picture flashed across the screen to show a fresh faced, young woman. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her green eyes sparkled with life and mischief. Her full mouth was split into a wide smile to show even white teeth. Her skin was the standard California tan, with high cheek bones, and wide doe eyes.

A shiver coursed over Buffy’s spine as she studied the girl. In some part of her consciousness, she realized their resemblance to each other.

Shaking her head, she turned the t.v off . A knock sounded on the back door, and she turned to answer it, pretty sure she knew who it was. Sure enough, Spike was leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette.

“Hello, pet.” he said, flashing her a grin.

“Hey, Spike. What’s up?” He flicked the smoke away, then stepped inside. She moved away from the door to finish eating, leaving him to close the door.

“Wanted to see if you needed some help on patrol.” His eyes were dancing around the room, landing on her every couple of seconds, before sliding away. *He’s nervous* That struck her as amazingly amusing. Spike, the Big Bad, was as nervous as a boy on his first date. That particular analogy sobered immediately, when she realized that to him, that’s probably what this would be.

Buffy looked at up at him then, chewing thoughtfully. She waited for his eyes to finally settle on her, studying his face intently. She was seeing him completely stripped down, no cockiness, no swagger. No Spike. This was William, staring at her with barely concealed hope in his eyes. This was a side of himself he’d been showing her a lot lately.

Spike shifted under her scrutiny, feeling uncomfortable. The length of her silence stretched between them, causing his hackles to rise.

“Right, then. Guess the answers no. See ya around, luv.” He turned to leave, hoping to retain at least a shred of his dignity, when her quiet voice stopped him.

“Wait, Spike.” Hadn’t she said that last night? He paused, balancing on the balls of his feet, one hand curled around the door knob. He looked ready to flee, rather than be burned by her rejection. Again. She contemplated him a moment more, questioned swirling around in her head.

Could she handle another go with a vampire? Especially ‘this’ vampire. He was a barely contained ball of passion and energy, his emotions fueling him towards whatever he wanted. He was soulless. Technically evil (at least by the Watcher’s Councils standards). He had done atrocious things over the last century. Had his love for her really changed him? Or would he turn on them the second the chip malfunctioned or shorted out?

*Fuck it* she thought. It wasn’t like she was encouraging him, just trying to be friendly to someone who had helped save her sisters life. *Tell yourself another one, Buff.* Ignoring the voice in her head, she smiled brightly at him.

“Sure. The more the merrier.” Buffy then stood, closing the box containing her dinner. “Just let me get my jacket.” She put the box in the refrigerator, then turned to leave the room. She sprinted up te stairs, and bounded into her room, eyes immediately falling on the rose. With a soft smile, she walked over to her dresser and ran a finger over a soft petal. She had dug up one of her mother’s vases out of the linen closet, then put it there so she would be able to see it when she went to sleep, and when she woke up. She hadn’t allowed herself to analyze why she had done it. She wasn’t up to that much introspection. She just knew that it made her feel special, and good. And not in the Chosen one sort of way.

She had even decided not to mention it to Spike. If he wanted to play secret admirer, she’d let him. If he ever mentioned it, she would let him down easy, but she didn’t see any reason not to enjoy it until then.

With another smile, she grabbed her jacket off the bed and left to rejoin Spike.

“Ready?” she said when she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“And willing.” He purred, a suggestive leer on his face. Buffy just rolled her eyes, then grabbed her keys off the table.

“Come on, blood breath. Evil nasties await.” It was Spike’s turn to roll his eyes as he preceded her out into the warm night.

After making sure that the door was locked, she turned and joined him on the sidewalk.

“Pet. I don’t want to insult your fashion sense, but why are you wearing a jacket with shorts?”

“This coming from a guy who’s won the same thing for thirty years?” Buffy replied, sliding her eyes over his usual attire of duster, black T-shirt, black jeans and boots.

“Hey, I’ll have you know this look is my calling card.” Spike huffed.

“Uh, huh. If there really was a fashion police, you would have been locked up long ago.” He scowled at her while she laughed, and pulled out a cigarette.

“I recall trying to change my look once. Don’t remember it being to well received, though.” That stopped her laughing, and they walked in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You were trying to be something you’re not.” Buffy told him quietly, becoming very interested in the chip in her nail polish.

“I was trying to be somebody you would like.” He admitted, clenching his jaw when he was finished.

“I know. But it wasn’t you. And, well. . .I do, kinda. . .like you.” she mumbled the last bit, and he reached out to pull her to a stop.

“What was that?” he asked, exhaling smoke. His face was set in an expressionless mask, waiting. Buffy continued to study her nails, refusing to meet his eyes when she started babbling.

“Well, you know, with all the help. . .and torture. . .Well, I guess. . .” Sighing, she raised her head and looked at him. “Look, I’m not saying that I’m giving you a chance. I’m not saying that this means anything other than what it is. But, it’s kinda hard to hate someone who almost died to protect your sister.” she finished in a rush. Spike’s blue, fathomless eyes studied her for a bit.

“Well, that’s something, then. Isn’t it, luv?” The intensity in his gaze burned into her, and she felt a slight crack start in the walls she had built around her heart.

“Yeah. I guess it is.” They stared at each other for a long moment, than turned to continue walking.

Spike dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his boot. He had turned to say something to Buffy, when his head swivelled back around, something in the air.

“What is it?” she asked, watching him take a deep, purposeful breath through his nose.

“Blood. A lot.” Then, without so much as a glance in her direction, he took off in a run. Buffy was right behind him. Luckily, he wasn’t going at full speed, or she never would have been able to keep up. He ran for about three blocks, past the cemetery where he lived. He then cut a sharp left at the corner. Buffy’s lungs were starting to burn, and her legs were threatening to give out as she pushed herself to keep up with him.

So intent was she on this, she didn’t see him skid to a stop. She plowed into his back, sending them both to the ground.

“Cor, Slayer. What’ve you been eating?” he exclaimed jumping t his feet. He reached down and pulled her up, not noticing the slap on his arm for his comment. He sniffed the air again, then took of once more.

“Shit.” Buffy huffed, taking off after him. When they finally went through the entrance to the park, her heart started to thud for something more than exertion.

*Please don’t let it be kids.* she prayed. She was prepared this time when he stopped. What she wasn’t prepared for, was him whipping around and gripping her arms. His hands encircled her biceps in a punishing hold. When she looked up in confusion, her eyes clashed with his yellow ones. She felt a quick stab of fear before her nose picked up the smell in the air. He was right. Blood. A lot. So much that it tainted the light breeze swirling around them.

“Spike. Let me go.” she said, trying to free herself. They were both panting heavy from the length of their run.

“You don’t want to see.” he told her, tightening his hands around her arms.

“I have to see what did this, so I can kill it.”

“You can’t kill what did this.” he insisted, still not moving. His demon was crawling around inside of him, demanding to partake of the buffet spread out so obligingly behind them. The man in Spike was revolted by what he had seen. No DEMON he knew of would have done what had been done to the poor girl at his back.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, finally breaking from his grasp. He reached for her again, but she evaded him easily. “It’s a little late to try to protect me from evil, Spike.” she told him pointedly. She glared at him before turning to look. A gasp escaped her as she sank bonelessly to her knees. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, holding back the scream that was threatening to erupt from her throat. Her hazel eyes were filled with horror and tears. Nausea rolled through her, as her mind struggled to accept what she was seeing.

The moon light and street lamps combined to make a spotlight on the girl laid out in front of them. Her naked form was posed in a reenactment of the crucifixion. Wooded stakes were driven through her hands and feet, a crown of garlic adorned her blonde head. Her mouth had been formed into the whisper of a smile. Her dead, green eyes stared sightlessly into the starry sky. Her throat had been cut, a jagged imitation of the smile she wore. He wrists had also been slashed, but all this was in addition to the incision that started in the valley between her small breasts. It traveled down the expanse of her upper body to the curls at the junction of her thighs. Particular attention had been given to her sex, which no longer resemble what it had been. Her heart had been removed, and was laid in one of her upturned palms. Every ounce of blood that had been in her slim form was now staining the ground around her.

Hard, ragged sobs tore from Buffy’s throat as she took it in. Then, Spike was in front of her, his black clad body blocking the scene that was forever burned into her memory.

“Pet.” he pulled her from the ground and forced her to walk to a bench facing away from the display. Pushing his cell phone into her lifeless hands, he mumbled “Call the police.” and walked back over to the girl. He stared into her face, his golden eyes picking up the similarities between her and the Slayer. The use of the stakes and the garlic crown struck him as an ominous symbol, as well. Shaking his head, he just chalked it up to coincidence. Raising his head in the air, he sniffed again. Picking past the coppery smell of the blood, and the regular night smells, his sensitive nose homed on another scent. It was faint, but he could tell it was the same from the night before.

It was human, he could tell that much. But there was something odd about it. Turning his head in the direction it seemed stronger, he breathed it in again. He scanned the bank of trees that surrounded the edge of the park. Stretching his senses out, he caught the faint sound of a heartbeat.

*Bastard’s still here.* his smile was predatory as he made ready to take off. He was stalled by Buffy’s tiny, shell shocked voice.

“Spike.” he turned to look at her. She was standing now, staring down at the girl. The cell phone was clutched tightly in her hand.

“Did you call the police, luv?” he kept his voice low, as not to startle her. She looked up at him then, nodding numbly.

“They’re on their way. You might wanna. . .” she waived a hand in front of her face, indicating his still vamped features. He turned his head, seeking the heartbeat once more. Finding it gone, he cursed inwardly. Turning back to Buffy, his face melted back into his handsome human planes once more.

“Pet, come sit down.” He gently gripped her wrist, giving her a light tug. She followed him wordlessly, allowing him to lead her. Sitting her back down on the bench, he settled next to her. A touch of worry furrowed his brow as he studied her pale profile. Her eyes were wide and glassy, staring unseeing at the ground. Her breathing was coming in short gasps and her heartbeat was erratic. Tentatively, Spike reached out to take her hand. He got the shock of his unlife when she practically crawled in his lap and buried her face against his shirt. He leather clad arms banded around her, holding her steady. Whispering softly into her hair, he cradled her against him, waiting for the police to come.

Stalk Her (continued)

Chapter Four

“Thanks for walking me home.” Buffy told Spike, unlocking the door and walking inside. Spike followed her through and shut the door. He then moved to join her in the kitchen, where she was filling a kettle with water. Putting it on the burner, she then got two mugs and the chocolate mix out of the cabinet. She gave her full attention to the task, not looking at Spike as he sat down. Her hands were still shaking as she carefully measured the cocoa in the cups.

It wasn’t until she was sitting across from him, a steaming cup in front of them both, that she spoke again.

“What could have done something like that?” She asked, staring into her cup. She idly tapped the floating marshmallows with a nail.

“Human.” Spike answered simply, raising his eyes to meet hers. Sighing, he tapped he side of his nose as an answer to her unasked question. If possible, she blanched even more.

“How could a human do something so. . .”

“Evil?” he supplied when she faltered for words. When her eyes clashed with his again, she saw the anger swimming there.

“That’s not. . .”

“What? What isn’t it?” he challenged, his voice hoarse with some unnamed emotion. She was shocked into silence by the sudden venom in his tone. He had been so tender at the park, holding her hand while she talked to the police. He had forced them into asking him his questions while they were together, refusing to leave her side. And now, she couldn’t even say he was acting like Spike again, because she had never seen him this angry. Or maybe angry wasn’t the right word. “Need I remind you, that Dahmer was human? Or how bout the Boston Strangler? Jack the Ripper? Oh, here’s a fine example of the human race, Ted Bundy. He used to play gimp to get to his victims. Not to mention Hitler, and at least a hundred more. Sometimes I think you’ve been the Slayer so long, you forget that humans can be just as evil as demons if not more so. At least demons are straight forward about it.” He said, the truth in his words making Buffy feel properly put in her place. Which of course brought her own anger into the fray.

“So, what? I should go out and start slaying humans now? Because, after all, they’re the real evil in the world?”

“NO.” he spat, eyes flashing yellow. “But maybe you shouldn’t be demon specific.”

“My title is ‘Vampire Slayer.’ I’d say that’s pretty specific. They have cops for humans.” Her face was flushed, and her hazel eyes were shooting sparks. *Gods, she’s beautiful.* Spike thought, pleased to see the vacant look gone from her face.

“Mm, huh. And they are ever so efficient, aren’t they. Especially Sunnyhell’s finest. Everything around here is done by crazed PCP gangs.” Spike snorted at the thought.

“They do what they can.” She said, her chin rising in defiance. It sounded as lame to her as it obviously did to Spike, but she couldn’t back down now.

“Yeah. And if a demon maims and kills, or destroys, we get a right quick death, depending on whether or not you’re PMS-ing. If a human does the same thing? What does he get?” Spike raised his eyes to the ceiling as if contemplating, then snapped them quickly back to hers. “I believe the term is ‘three hots and a cot.’ Courtesy of the state, and paid for with your tax dollars. And if the bloke, or bird, should be unlucky enough to be convicted in a state that still has the death penalty. Well, that happy convict has the knowledge that he has at least 6 or 7 years of appeals left before he gets fried, or injected, or whatever the ‘humane’ thing to do is. So, basically, just because humans have souls and pulses, they get a right cushy deal. Demons, just get dead.” He picked up his mug and drained the contents, wishing it was something with a little more bite. Setting it down with a clack, he glared at her.

And found himself transfixed by the sight of her. Her chest was heaving in deep breaths, attempting to calm down. Spike found his eyes glued to soft mounds, and he felt himself heating up for a totally different reason than anger.

Buffy’s own skin heated up as she felt the air change around them. Electricity seemed to crackle from his eyes as he continued to stare at the rise and fall of her breasts. She felt her nipples pebble under the boldness of his gaze. Buffy’s inner voice was screaming at her to slap the wanton look of lust and love off his face. She couldn’t seem to move, her body tingling as she imagined the thoughts that must be running through his mind.

Spike’s erection pressed even more painfully against the zipper of his jeans when the scent of her arousal reached him. His eyes, now the color of midnight with want, traveled from her breasts along the smooth column of her throat, then up further to linger over her slightly parted lips. A groan rumbled from his throat when her tongue darted out to moisten them.

“Spike.” She wanted to sound strong, and reproachful. Instead, she sounded breathless and needy.

“Don’t.” The word was sharp, his voice thick. His eyes burned her when they met hers. “Don’t try to tell me you can’t feel it, Slayer.” Heat, desire. “I can smell you.” This was said in almost whisper, as he rose to his feet. It should have disgusted her, it really should have. But as she watched him advance on her, she couldn’t seem to figure out why. Her breathing picked up when he stopped within a breath of her, and her heart triple timed in her chest when his hand reached out to possessively cup her breast. She whimpered, despite herself at the feel of his cool palm over her heated flesh. He lowered his head until his mouth hovered just above hers.

“I will have you.” he promised, his soft accented voice drifting over her like a caress. Instead of crushing his mouth against hers, like she expected(wanted), he shifted and brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead. With one last, teasing squeeze to the soft flesh under his hand, and a quick flick of his thumb across her rock hard nipple, he stepped away. Her whole body screamed out in protest, willing her to jump him. She somehow managed to keep her seat, as she stared at him, her mind conjuring up images to go along with the promise of pleasure dancing in his eyes.

A purely male smile curled his lips as he took in her appearance. He tan skin was flushed, her breath coming in small gasps. Her erect nipples strained against the cotton of her tank top. Her eyes were wide and passion glazed. And she was instinctively leaning towards him, silently begging him to take her and make it good.

*Oh, I will.* he thought to himself, pulling out a cigarette. *And it will be.* He let the cigarette dangle, unlit, in his mouth. He wasn’t going to be her lap dog, like Peaches and Soldier boy. He’d regained some semblance of self on his short sabbatical from Sunnydale. He wasn’t going to toss it all away for a short tumble in the sheets that she would regret in the morning. No, when he finally did bury himself in her sweet, little body, it would be because she had stopped lying to herself, and admitted what had always been between them.

“Goodnight, pet.” he purred, his husky words washing over her. Then, he turned and walked out the door, pausing to light the cigarette. His head whipped up after the first drag, his nose catching a whiff of the scent from the park. It was faint, but it was there. He briefly considered going back in, but he quickly nixed it. Not only would to ruin a perfectly good exit, bet he figured she would have collected herself by now, and had probably worked herself up into a nice, hot rage. Swaggering a little as he walked, Spike strolled over to his tree and settled himself in for the night. He leaned back against it and smoked, confident that he had wiped the horror of the evening from her mind.

~*~*~

“Stupid vampire.” Buffy mumbled, placing the mugs in the sink a little harder than she had intended. “Cocky, self involved, EVIL, don’t forget EVIL, Buff. And soulless. Evil and soulless. Good things to remember.” She told herself, double checking the locks before walking up the stairs. “Evil. Soulless. Evil. Soulless.” She kept repeating it, over and over, trying to force the though through her over stimulated mind. It refused to take root, and her brain helpfully supplied new words to her diatribe. “Sexy, undead. Great hands. EVIL! Beautiful mouth. SOULLESS! And that ass!” He mind giddily tossed out the picture of her hands greedily clutching that ass as he pumped in and out of her, his strokes long and hard.

She groaned at the image, desperately trying to ignore the aching wetness between her thighs, and the almost painful feel of her sensitive breasts.

Just two seconds more of his hand on her, and she would have been begging him to fuck her.

With an angry yank, her shirt came over her head. She tossed it on the ever growing pile of laundry in the corner. A second later, her shorts and sopping panties joined the small mountain. She sighed in relief as the cool night air from the window drifted over her flesh.

Flopping on her back across the bed, she didn’t notice the black teddy bear resting against her pillows. It sat, holding a blood red heart in its stuffed paws, a silent voyeur as he restless hands slid across her heated skin. Her left hand teased and squeezed the hard peaks of her breasts. Her right hand coasted down across her abdomen, through the soft curls of her sex, to plunge two fingers deep into her dripping channel. A gasp escaped her as she worked herself, the heel of her hand pressing hard against her clit. She whimpered as she imagined it was him inside of her, his cool shaft plundering the depths of her slick core.

Her hips shifted on the bed as her hand pumped faster. She moaned in frustration as she desperately sought to ease the tension that had been building since their argument started.

With a sound caught between a sigh and a scream, she came. The waves crested and fell over her, her inner wall spasming around her fingers.

After she had calmed, she turned on her side, eyes closed. She had found her release, but she wasn’t fulfilled. She knew why. There was no denying it to herself anymore. She wanted him. Now she just had to figure what that meant.

Sighing heavily, she pushed herself off the bed and padded naked to the bathroom.

~*~*~

In a dark room across town, the man sat. The room was in shambles around him, a testimony to his despair. Hanging his head, he covered his face with his hands and wept. The sound of her voice calling that creatures name echoing in his head.

Chapter Five

Stalking silently through the night, a killer searched for his prey. Anger and hate raged through his body, fueling the need to kill. He had already taken a life this night. But the scene he had witnessed was forcing him to seek out another to punish. SHE was forcing it.

How could she? How could she touch herself, thinking of that. . .thing? That evil, soulless THING! He had no right to touch her, no right to be invading her mind, her thoughts. She was purity.

*How pure is she if she’s thinking about fucking Spike?* He whirled around as if the voice in his mind had come from behind him. Seeing nothing, he turned and started walking again. He passed the park were he had left his earlier masterpiece. Cops were milling around, bagging anything that could be used as evidence. An evil smile touched his face, knowing they wouldn’t find anything. He was thorough, and had left nothing behind.

It was unfortunate that she had been the one to find the body. He wasn’t ready for her to see. It would figure that Spike would be drawn to the scent of the blood. Guess with the chip in, he had to take human blood wherever he could find it.

Anger bubbled anew as he thought of the way the peroxided blonde had wormed his way into the Slayer’s life. Into her sisters confidence. So what if he had saved the younger Summers from the sharp end of a butcher’s knife. That didn’t change who he was. What he was. If this was allowed to continue, he would contaminate everything that was good in her. He was already affecting her body. What if her heart followed? This thought horrified him in ways that nothing ever had.

No, this had to be stopped. Now.

Turning onto the Main street in town, he glanced around, his darker self taking over and searching. There, just coming out of the movie theater. Young and fresh faced, blonde and petite. Yes, she would do nicely.

~*~*~

Spike shifted in his chair, flinging a leg over the arm in an attempt to get comfortable. He vaguely wondered why he just didn’t go down to bed. He was tired and cramped after spending the whole night under the tree in Buffy’s yard. Luckily, no sign of the owner of the elusive smell appeared. He puzzled over the oddity of the scent. It was human, but not. There was something altering it, almost as if the owner knew that he could be recognized by it.

Then there was the fact that he had smelled it at that lovely little display in the park, as well as outside the Slayer’s house. And the fact that the girl resembled the slayer, her body trussed up in the tools of her trade didn’t settle well with him at all. He’d have to talk to Buffy about it later, if she wasn’t back to wanting to stake him, that is.

A slow smile curved his lips as he thought of the scene in her kitchen. Grabbing his cigarettes, he shifted again, this time to alleviate the pressure that had swelled in his jeans. Pulling out the slim tube of tobacco, he lit it, inhaling deep. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift back over the events of the night before.

Finding that girl had not been on his list of fun things to do. Sure, he’d done his fair share of killing over the years. But nothing like that. That type of stuff was more Angelus’ style. Then the subsequent interview with the cops. Now there was torture for you.

Re-answering the same inane questions, over and over. Having the pillocks look at him like he had done the destruction to that girl. Buffy had kept a death grip on him the whole time they were being questioned. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was going to shatter. Luckily, being the Slayer helped her deal with a lot. It was the fact that it had been human that was throwing her.

Sure, he knew that she knew that humans could be evil. It just wasn’t something that she had to deal with. Her life revolved around demons, vampires, Hell mouths and prophecies. Things of nightmares. It was easy to forget that monsters could come neatly packaged with heartbeats, warm blood and souls.

Hence came his speech to her. It wasn’t that he was trying to get absolution for himself or any other demon. They were, what they were. But, it would do her good to remember that evil didn’t always come from a Hell dimension.

Of course, he thought with a smile, the argument hadn’t been all bad. He remembered the way her warm breast felt under his hand. The sound of her gasps in his ears. The sweet, tangy smell of her arousal tickling his nose. *Yeah, Slayer. Try to deny me now*

He took another drag, smoke curling around him as his mind happily merged memories of the night before and the day of Willow’s spell, right after he had gotten the bloody chip. A growl rumbled through his chest with the memory of her warm mouth and tongue sliding against his. The soft mewling sounds she’d made when he had teased her to the point of orgasm when the Watcher was fumbling around for more scotch. The sound of his name falling from her lips and through the open window when she had pleasured herself.

All of this combined together to make quite a lifelike fantasy in his head. He had just flung his cigarette across the crypt and had settled back to have some quality time with his hand, when a soft scratching pulled him back to reality. Scowling, he left the top button of his jeans undone as he got up to inspect the cause.

“Dammit, Sid. You certainly have crappy timing.” He said when he opened the door.

“Ruff.” was all he got in response.

“Well, come in then. Where ya been. Whoring it up again?” he asked the ratty, old, golden retriever as it entered. Careful to avoid the rays of the sun, he pushed the heavy door closed then turned to regard his guest. The dog was sitting next to his chair, head cocked to the side and tongue lolling out of his mouth as if smiling. His tail thumped lazily on the floor, raising decades worth of dust.

Smirking, Spike crossed to the animal and ruffled his scruffy head affectionately. The dog responded enthusiastically, his whole butt wagging.

“Ugly old thing.” Spike murmured. And he really was. His once glorious, golden coat was matted with dirt and who knew what else. A notch had been cut out of his left ear, a permanent reminder of the Cylok demon Spike had saved it from. He was missing most of his teeth, and those that were still there were worn down to nubs. He’d had a collar on that night, but the shape the dog was in had made it clear that he had been on his own for a while. So, when the animal had followed him home, not in the least fazed by the flash of fang and warning growl Spike had offered, the vampire had decided to keep an eye on him. Not that he was keeping the walking carpet as a pet, mind you. It just seemed a waste to save him from one demon, then leave him helpless for the next.

“Let’s see what we’ve got for supper, shall we?” Spike said, standing and walking to his makeshift kitchen area. Grabbing the jar of peanut butter off the top of the small fridge, and a jar of blood from the inside, he went back to the chair and flopped down. Opening the peanut butter, he set it on the floor in front of Sid, who happily began licking away. Smirking once more, Spike twisted the cap on his own jar and took a long drink, not even scowling at the taste of cold pig’s blood.

“Well, Sid. How was your night?” he asked the dog. When the only response he got was the steady swish of the dogs tongue against the jar, he shrugged a shoulder and reached for his cigarettes once more. “Right then. Let me tell you about mine.” Sitting back, he lit the fag and preceded to fill the dog in on the dead girl and the rather happy time with the Slayer.

~*~*~

Buffy groaned loudly as she twisted the key in the back door of the Magic Box. She was sooo tired. She tried cursing the vampire, but she knew he was only part of the reason that she didn’t sleep. Dreams of pale skin and white hair, interspersed with nightmare images of blood and death had combined to make sure that Buffy would be one cranky Slayer in the morning. But, she had gotten up and gone to work. Bills didn’t go away just because you didn’t get a good nights sleep.

Luckily, her boss had read in the paper that she had found the body, and had sent her home early. But, instead of heading home to get some well deserved rest, she was here, checking on the store and squeezing in a training session. Throwing her keys into her bag, and then tossing it aside, she moved to the tiny bathroom to change. A few minutes later she emerged, her sensible black slacks, peach sheath and black flats replaced with blue jogging pants, white sports bra, and white training shoes. She walked over to the supply closet and pulled out the tape to wrap her hands, and one of the scrunchies she kept there in case she forgot one at home.

She moved as if on auto pilot, twisting her hair around the scrunchie, then twining the tape around her hands. Her brain had been threatening to short circuit since she had stumbled out of bed, her dreams from the night before not giving her any relief in the day.

Spike and dead bodies. Those two should have gone hand in hand. But as she thought back now, she realized he had been just as upset by the scene as she. It was nothing in his face, or his words. It just seemed to emanate off of him.

Buffy moved to the middle of the mat, and began stretching her tired muscles. She had just leaned down and grabbed her ankle when she heard a loud crash from the front of the shop. She jumped, her heart slamming in her chest, but immediately set into Slayer mode. Grabbing a knife from the rack on the wall, she moved stealthily through the room to the door. Stepping carefully through it, she cast her eyes around, stretching her senses out to try to detect a presence.

A prickly feeling began on the back of her neck, and she spun around, dropping instinctively into a fighting stance. Seeing nothing, she turned to face the front of the store again. Her shoes made no sound on the tile as she rounded the stair case. Her fingers tightened on the knife, her eyes picked out the table and the counter. She walked all the way to the front door, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Sighing, she turned to head back to the training room, annoyed that now she was hearing things. But as she neared the table once more, she noticed what was sitting on top.

A book. Nothing unusual there. It was open. Again, not unusual. However, the long, rusty railroad spike impaled through the center was a touch on the odd side. Hell, it screamed ‘what the fuck?’

Buffy found herself saying just that as she walked over to it. She didn’t notice her hand trembling as she reached out and grabbed it, pulling it from the book. She didn’t hear her heart echoing in her ears when she dropped it to the floor with a clang. She didn’t realize it was fear that was turning her insides to ice while she extended her hands to grab the old volume. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that Giles was going to be pissed that somebody had ruined one of his precious books.

Her wide eyes skimmed over the text, recognition of the contents making her ill. On the pages in her hand, was the very detailed life of William the Bloody, a.k.a. Spike. Starting two days after he was turned, the heavy tome detailed each atrocity that had been accredited to him, and others that they weren’t sure of. Each page reminded her of why she should hate him. Each word made her stomach turn. She had never read this before, had never felt the need to. Giles had told her everything she needed to know. But seeing it in print, made it seem all the more real.

“Buffy?” Her scream echoed through the empty shop, her fingers tightening once more on the blade in her hand. Wide eyes scanned the dark until they settled on the familiar form that now seemed like a stranger. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern etched across his face. Her brittle laugh only caused his brows to draw tighter together, wondering if she’d finally gone round the bend. “Pet? What is it?”

“Just seems strange, that you of all people are concerned about me.” She said, holding the book out accusingly. He took it from her and scanned the words, a frown forming on his mouth.

“So, decided to do some light reading and give yourself plenty of ammunition, huh?”

“Don’t even, Spike. If you hadn’t of done any of those things, I wouldn’t have anything to read.” She countered, hugging her arms around herself. “All those people, Spike. And you don’t care about a single one of them, do you?” she asked Spike’s eyes drifted closed before he answered her.

“Not in the way that you think it should. I care because it hurts you. I care because sometimes I lie awake and think, what if one of those people had been like Nibblet. Or Red. Or Glinda. Or you.”

“I’m the Slayer.” she spat, unnoticed tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Yeah, and I’ve killed two.” He told her, his eyes turning cold for a brief instant. His entire face softened, before he spoke again. “ You being the Slayer has nothing to do with why I love you. In fact, it should be the biggest deterrent. It’s your strength, your wit. The way you smile. Your laugh, when you let yourself. The way you protect the ones you love. It’s everything about you. It’s who you would be without the super strength. The fact that you ARE the Slayer only makes those qualities stand out more.” He hazarded a step towards her, heartened when she didn’t shrink back or attack. “I love you despite you being the Slayer.”

“You can’t love. It’s the chip. . .”

“Fuck that, and you know it. You and the rest of the Scoobies can spin that tale a thousand different ways and it still doesn’t make rot. I was with Druscilla for almost all of my existence, and I can tell you that it wasn’t for her conversational skills. She made me the man I was, you made me the man I want to be.” Buffy was having a hard time thinking, she so wanted to believe him. But that oh so stubborn part of her just had to keep opening her mouth.

“You offered me up to her for a snack if I didn’t give you a chance. The chip is the only thing that has kept you from killing me, yourself. As soon as its out it’ll be bye bye love, hello lunchable.” she insisted.

“Ya know what, luv?” he bit out, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but. . .Newsflash Slayer. The chips out, and I still love you.” He tensed, prepared for her to strike. His face was a tight mask of pride and challenge. “If you’re going to stake me, do it now, cause I won’t give you another chance. If you let me walk out of here, that proves that you feel something for me, and trust me just a little, at least.” Her face had paled, he could tell, even in the dim light from the lamps outside. Her eyes were swirling with a thousand different emotions at once. Fear not the least of them.

“Have you. . .” she started, her voice trembling. She couldn’t finish the question, but he got the idea.

“No, I haven’t. Haven’t even tried. That’s not why I got it out”

“Why. . ?” Her brain and mouth didn’t seem to be working together any more, and she couldn’t find the words she wanted.

“Because, as long as it was in, you would never believe that I had really changed. I’d still just be a serial killer in prison.” that statement brought other, even less pleasant memories to the forefront of her mind. Pushing them away, she concentrated on the problem at hand. Chipless Spike.

“How am I supposed to believe that you haven’t fed?” She felt like the room was closing in around her, and she was having trouble breathing.

“That’s something you’re going to have to figure out on your own, pet.” he told her sadly. He looked down at the book in his hand, and started flipping through pages. Finding what he wanted, he placed the book back on the table. “While you’re thinking about it, here’s another history lesson for you. Read about some of your precious Angels’ exploits. You’ll see that I was never even half the demon he was.” He then turned on his heel, preparing to leave.

“He has a soul.” Her soft words stilled him once more. Without turning back, he answered.

“Because of a curse. He changed because he had too. I changed because I wanted to. You decide which is better.” with that, he was gone in a swirl of black leather. Buffy stared after him for what seemed like forever. With a weary sigh, she finally sank bonelessly into the chair. A thought suddenly struck her, and she couldn’t believe she had overlooked it. Somebody had left that book for her to find. The stake through the center had been left there to get her attention. The question was, who? And why?

With a shake of her head, Buffy got up to walk back into the training room, grabbing the book on her way. She didn’t give herself time to think of why she was taking it. She just knew that it would somehow make her decision easier. Picking up her stuff, she flipped off the light and left out the back door, making sure it was locked. Turning down the street, she made her way home to another long, sleepless night.

~*~*~

Letting himself quietly out the backdoor of the Magic Box, the man shoved his hands deep in his pockets. A whistle blew from his lips and there was a skip in his step. His plan had worked. He had reminded her of Spike’s true nature. And now that the vampire was chipless, it would only be a matter of time before her Slayer instinct kicked in and she sent him to hell where he belonged.

He had heard every word from his position below the air conduit in the basement. The blonde was apparently to occupied to notice the scent of another person, as he made his way in and back out of the sewer entrance. It was a happy coincidence that Spike had shown up. It would have made him even happier if she had dusted him the second that the vampire had revealed that the chip was out. No matter, the truth was out. He had confidence that Buffy would take care of him. She was, first and foremost, the Vampire Slayer. Her obligation to the safety of the masses would take back burner to any fuzzy feelings she had been entertaining about him.

With a light heart, he hurried towards home. His guest would be wondering where he had gone. And he couldn’t let her wait forever.

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