Chapter 6

Buffy ran all the way back to her dorm. In her turbulent state, the physical exertion was soothing. Solid. Something to focus on, instead of how Spike had just kissed her. No. Not just kiss. It was more than that. Kisses were sweet and airy. This was deeper, more intense. It was as if he had tried to claim her. And she had claimed him back.

Buffy, moral voice announced, you have no business claiming vampires. Vampires are evil. We do not like vampires. Spike is a vampire, therefore he is icky. And non-kissable.

(He is to kissable!)

Be quiet, bad voice, I'm talking. Moral voice continued. Spike may be very handsome (totally hot! interjected bad voice) and you may have experienced temporary insanity, (temporary sanity!), but there will be no more repeats of kissing. Especially intense, drawn out, mouthwatering, perfectly wonderful...

Damn. Buffy scowled as she stomped up to her dorm room. Even her moral voice was drooling over Spike kisses now. What was she going to do now?

Find Spike and kiss him again! Followed by kissing, and some more kissing, and then -

NO MORE KISSING!

Buffy jerked the door open, almost pulling it off its hinges. Oh why oh couldn't her life be simple? She's not asking for much - just the occasional, basic apocalypse, maybe some doppelgangers thrown in on the side. A demon or two. Definitely not a vampire husband who was starting to look like a frighteningly good idea.

Avoid Spike. Easiest way to solve this problem. Avoidance. Lawyers only, get a divorce, then drive off into the sunset with Riley.

Emotions resolved and/or denied, Buffy entered her room.

"Hi, Buffy. How'd your meeting go?" Willow asked, looking up from her textbook, neatly highlighting the important words. Blue for vocab, yellow for concepts, orange for people. Uh oh, where's her orange?

Buffy reached down and picked up the orange highlighter. Handing it to Willow, she sighed. "Mr. Harmon tried to get us to talk, but Spike and I kept arguing. He was being an even bigger jerk than normal. Spike, not Harmon."

"Mm-hmm."

"He won't even consider a divorce unless I call it quits with Riley. Kept on going on and on about how I was his until the divorce and how Riley was a git and that meant I shouldn't see other guys. I mean, where does he get off? I was with Riley waay before any stupid spell screwed up my life."

"And once again, I say sorry. But about the Riley thing," Willow paused, treading carefully, "maybe you shouldn't see him until you're all not with the marriage thing and - "

"WHAT?! No. No way am I giving to Spike. He's just being his usual stupid, idiotic, annoying self. We're doing this MY way." Buffy punctuated each word with a punch to her pillow.

"Ookay, sensing this is an issue here." Willow held up her hands in surrender, "I was just saying. You don't have to do that."

"Damn right." Buffy gave the pillow one last punch. It exploded. White fluffy cotton rained down over her face and shoulders. "Oops."

Fourth pillow this month. Buffy jumped up, sending stuffing everywhere.

"I'm going to the Bronze. With Riley. And if Spike doesn't like it, he can go stake himself," she announced.

"Way to be empowered. But it works better without the fluffy stuffing all over."

Buffy looked down at herself.

"I'll go after I clean up."

***

Who did that bitch think she is, anyway? Spike asked himself, downing a shot of whiskey. After their little back alley make-out session, he'd decided the best course of action was to get drunk. Very drunk. With the help of some nancy boy who screamed in terror of Spike's game-face and dropped his wallet before running like a girl, he was well on his way to alcohol induced oblivion.

A self righteous little Slayer, that's who. Thinkin' she's so great, just cause he couldn't bite her. Going on and on about how he's got to jump to her tune. When he damn well has the right to demand she kick the Riley git onto the curb. Bitch acted like it was HIS fault the meeting with the lawyer screwed up. He was being the reasonable one! She's the one who makes this all difficult.

Spike tossed back another shot and signaled the bartender for some more whiskey. All she had to figure out was that they could have a lot more fun doing a more passionate kind of fighting. Like in the alley. That was better than anything under the spell's influence. Well, except for the part where she took him and -

And she was here with the Riley git. Again. What, were they glued at the hip or something? Stupid Soldier Boy. Stupid Slayer for letting him slobber over her like that. Stupid Spike for letting it get to him.

Slayer wants to act like an idiot? Fine. Go ahead. Not like he cares. Spike nodded firmly, sealing the vow with yet another shot.

As he enjoyed the sensation of the burning liquid, a husky voice whispered into his ear, "Come here often?"

Spike turned his head, taking in this new girl. Dresses for a night on the town, skimpy little top barely covering an impressive chest; dark hair artfully messy and curling around her face.

"Depends. You here a lot?"

She smiled and sat down next to him. "Most nights. Always looking for some company."

"Happy to oblige." Spike gave her his most charming smile. He might not be able to bite, his wife might hate his guts, but he could still pick up a date. "Wanna dance?"

***

Buffy swayed to the music in Riley's arms, ignoring the guilt that threatened to overwhelm her. It's one thing when SPIKE tells you to do thing, it's another when Willow agrees. And according to Willow, now was the time to come clean with Riley. Dump him or tell him he has to wait.

"Hey, Buffy, you coming to the party at Lowell?"

"Hunh?"

"The party. At Lowell House. My dorm. In two days."

"Yeah," big smile for the human boyfriend, "of course!"

They swayed a bit more. Buffy tuned out Riley's babble about some Initiative thing. His idea of an 'exciting mission' was incredibly boring.

Was that Spike over there? Dancing? Buffy craned her neck over Riley's shoulder to see. It was Spike! With some brunette slut. Practically dry humping him in the middle of the dance floor. Cheap hussy.

Spike caught her eye and smirked. Screw you, Slayer. Two can play at this game.

"What are you looking at?" Riley turned his head to see what had his girlfriend so entranced. "Wait a second, isn't that your friend Xander's friend? Do you want to go over and say hi?"

"No! No, that's okay."

Riley shrugged and pulled her closer for the slow song just starting. "Good. I don't want to share you right now."

He leaned in to kiss her. Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Spike making out with The Hussy. She surged onto her tip-toes to meet his lips.

Riley was ecstatic. Patience had finally paid off! Buffy was kissing him!

Buffy opened her mouth and sought to deepen the kiss. Unfortunately, she found it exceedingly awkward to do that on her tippy-toes. Riley's arms weren't nearly as supportive as Spike's had been. She sank back down. Riley followed, bending slightly.

Okay. A little less awkward angle. Buffy tried to throw herself into the passion of the kiss. Okay, self, join in the passion. What passion? He's slobbering a little. And you got more excited when Jimmy kissed you in eighth grade.

Buffy pulled away. Reluctantly, Riley let go.

"That, that was good."

Buffy gave him a little smile, "Uh-huh. Listen, I'd hate to cut our date short, but I have to go patrolling."

"I'll come with you," Riley insisted. "Give me a second to get my equipment."

"That's okay. This, uh, this patrol route is best done alone. Silencey and stealthy type thing. I'll be fine."

"You sure? You shouldn't go out without backup."

"Riley, Slayers have been patrolling without backup for centuries. I'll be fine. Good night!"

Buffy hurried to the door, pausing only long enough to give The Hussy the evil eye. Spike deserved a tramp like that. Hopefully she carries some disease that infects horny vampires.

Studiedly ignoring the irony of HER being jealous of HIM, Buffy went out to patrol.

***

"You know, hot stuff, we could get to know each other better in a more quiet environment," Gina?Tina? cooed into Spike's ear. She interlaced their fingers and lazily stroked his left hand. "Don't you agree?"

Still pissed about Buffy's little "incident" with the git, Spike was more than ready to say yes. "Whatever you say, baby."

Gina/Tina giggled. "I like that." Her thumb grazed his ring. "Ooh, pretty. Where'd you get this?"

Spike looked down. Crap, he'd forgotten to take off his wedding ring. Hopefully, Gina/Tina would be as ditzy as she looked. "No where important."

"Looks like a wedding ring."

"Um..."

Gina/Tina's eyes narrowed. "You divorced?"

"Well, uh, actually, uh, that's, uh...soon," Spike fumbled, too drunk to lie properly. "OW!"

Gina/Tina had kicked him! "Bastard! I don't go around sleeping with married men. What kind of girl do you think I am!"

"Hey, Tina, you came onto me - "

"My name is MINA!"

Ouch. Spike rubbed his cheek where she had slapped him. Tonight was not shaping up to be a good night.

"Asshole!" Mina flounced off. What was it about her and scumbags like that? Why couldn't she meet a decent, single guy?

Spike just groaned. He couldn't even successfully cheat on Buffy? How pathetic was that.

He did the only thing left to do. Order another shot and hope to get sloshed. And ignore the still sober part that whispered, Mina would have been a poor substitute for the Slayer.

Chapter Seven

Yippee. Party at Lowell. Bring out the beer.

Buffy sat on the corner of a couch, occasionally sipping from her too warm Diet Coke. No beer for this co-ed. That led to Neanderthal badness. Next to her, Riley was babbling about something. Undoubtedly important. To him.

"Riley, I'm going to get a refill. Mine got all watery and warm."

"Need help finding the cooler?"

"No. I'll just follow the drinks."

Riley continued speaking as if she hadn't just answered his question. "It's actually tucked out of the way. The non-beer drinks, that is. C'mon, I'll show you."

He took her by the arm and started pulling her to this 'hidden' cooler. Buffy rolled her eyes and let him. If he wanted to be the big manly man showing her where she got her drink ten minutes ago, go him. One more nail in the coffin of their non-relationship.

Cause after that kiss two nights ago, this wasn't going anywhere.

Buffy's lips quirked up, remembering the lip mashing slobberfest that Riley was so proud of. And compared it to Spike's bone melting kisses and caresses. Mmm, lips of Spike.

Whoa. What was that? Buffy felt her breathing accelerate and her body became all flushed. That was weird. Suddenly, she was feeling excited. Very excited.

Buffy distractedly set her drink down. Okay, where did the hot flash come from?

Riley was having a similar reaction. He'd just been walking along, and now he was definitely feeling the burn.

Buffy leaned against the wall, trying to process. The wall didn't help. Instead, her mind grew even more foggy. Her brain seemed stuck on one scene - the infamous motel room. Buffy reached up to loosen her shirt a little in an effort to breathe. She slid her hands down her side, remembering past caresses. Memories of cool, cool hands soothing and loving came to her. Man, she needed them right now.

Someone else's hands replaced hers. They were too big, too warm. But the cold ones weren't here. These would do in a pinch.

"Let's go upstairs," Riley's voice whispered in her ear. It was the wrong voice, but in Buffy's dazed state, any one would do. She followed.

***

Spike scowled. He was broke. Again. Only one way to fix that - pick some pathetic passer-by and scare them into giving him money.

Hey there, up ahead. Nice enough girl walking. Easy pickings.

"GRRAWW!"

Spike hurled himself out of the alley into the girl's path. Unfortunately, by the time he got there he realized it was Anya.

Anya's only reaction was to scream a little and jump backwards. Otherwise, she just looked annoyed.

"Oh, it's you," he grumbled.

"Spike! What are you doing? You made me yell really high," Anya scolded.

Spike tried to see if he could squeeze any money out of her. "Hey! Yeah, I did. I scared you. Gimme money."

"I'm not paying you for scaring me," Anya announced.

"You're not paying me. I'm robbing you," he explained, doubting that this new approach would work. His dignity would be totally shot with her from now on.

"Oh, well now that's just ludicrous. You can't hurt me because you've got that chip in your brain. Also, I like my money the way it is... when it's mine," she stated.

Damn. She had to bring that up. "But I did scare you, right?" Spike asked, feeling like that guy in Dru's favorite movie. The one with the wizard and the dog. His existence was officially pathetic, now. He was bonding with characters from children's movies.

"I experienced heightened adrenaline levels when you growled," Anya reassured him. "Does that make you feel better?"

Unfortunately, it did. Spike resisted the urge to pout.

"I am on my way to Lowell House," Anya continued talking. "I plan to flirt with many handsome college boys and therefore make Xander jealous. Hopefully, he will understand we cannot just go without having sex two nights in a row and we will no longer be breaking up."

Sometimes, Spike wondered exactly how Anya's mind worked. But he didn't wonder very hard. That was the path to true insanity.

"Do you want to come with me?" she asked, finally finishing her speech. "Buffy will be there."

Spike snorted. "Why should I care if the Slayer's there?"

"Because she's your wife."

"So?"

"And because you are attracted to her. Maybe even in love," Anya cocked her head to the side, studying him intently. "Definitely in lust."

"I'm not in anything with the Slayer," Spike snapped. "Vampires don't get the hots for Slayers." He proceeded to storm off.

"Buffy's at the party with Riley. Xander says that they are quote unquote, together," Anya called to his back.

Spike paused.

"Think they have free beer?"

"It's a frat party," Anya huffed, "of course there's free beer."

"Sounds like fun, then. Where to?"

"This way." Anya gestured vaguely in the direction she'd been headed in.

As they walked, Spike added, "This has nothing to do with Buffy."

"Of course. Do you want my aid in separating her from the overly large and somewhat annoying Riley so you can go have sex with her?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really? Because it seems to me that you want to go have orgasms with Buffy, and are unable to do so. I just want to help."

"Please don't."

"Ex-demons have to stick together."

"I'm not an ex-demon! Still a vampire, here."

"Neutered, former, what's the difference."

Spike almost wished to be walking with Harmony instead. Almost. Even Anya was better than Harmony's incessant inane chatter. But it was a close contest.

***

Spike took a long pull from his beer. It was a particularly watery and cheap brand, but what could you expect from Americans? None of them had a clue what real beer was.

Not long after their arrival, Anya had found Xander, yelled at Xander, then gone off to prove her womanhood. Or something. Spike had gotten a good laugh watching the whelp try to prove his manliness as well. The boy's flirting techniques were atrocious.

Since that had quickly grown boring, Spike had ever so casually started looking for Buffy. Not that he was interested or anything. Just wanted to make sure he knew where she was. It was best for a vamp to know where his enemies were, right? Absolutely nothing to do with a desire to talk to her, romance her, sneak her upstairs..

Huh. What was that? Spike frowned. He had a normal vampire's libido (meaning, if he wasn't thinking about killing, he was thinking about sex), but where did that little rush come from?

Then he noticed the seriously lust crazy behavior of everyone else in the room. People were kissing, moaning, and in general acting like rabbits in heat. Just look at that group playing Spin the Bottle. Acting all charged up just from touching the thing.

"BANG!"

The bottle exploded. And with it, any semblance of order in the room.

Spiny thorns were sprouting up all over the place. Building was shaking like no tomorrow. People were running about, screaming in panic.

Well, this party's starting to liven up after all, Spike thought.

But that thought was quickly disbanded when he became the next target. Vines reached out and tried to entangle him. He cursed as the thorns bit down, yanked them off and sprinted to the door.

Outside, the bulk of the party goers ran for safety. The only ones left in front of the house, were, of course, the Scoobies. Do-gooders like that couldn't leave the scene of the crime. Oh no, they had to stay and fix it.

Spike took a quick head count. Whelp, Demon Girl, Red, and Red's girlfriend (c'mon, everyone knew, even if they didn't say it). No Slayer.

No Slayer! Was she trapped inside still?

"We have to go back in there," Willow announced. Her voice was a little uncertain as she faced the impenetrable, vine-covered door.

Ever the pragmatic, Anya asked, "Why?"

"Because Buffy and Riley are still trapped in there!" Xander retorted.

She was trapped? With the git? Spike started assessing the door for weak points.

"So?" Anya demanded. "She's the Slayer, he's a big soldier boy, what do they need you for?"

"Anya, look around! There's ghosts and shaking, and people are going all Felicity with their hair... We're fresh out of superpeople, and somebody's gotta go back in there." Xander took a deep breath. "Now who's with me?"

"I am," Spike announced.

Everyone stared.

"My wife is in there!" Spike pointed out.

Anya smirked. She loved it when she was right.

"I thought you hated Buffy," Xander remarked.

Spike ignored him and tried the door. He managed a few steps before being kicked out by an invisible force. Ow.

"Definitely Watcher Time."

The Scoobies went to get more experienced supernatural aid.

"You coming, Spike?" Willow asked as they left.

Spike didn't answer. He just continued studying the house's defenses.

"He's trying to protect his mate," Anya whispered loudly. "When vampires get like that, they don't do reason very well."

***

After multiple tries and many bruises, and possibly a cracked rib, Spike was navigating the stairs of Lowell House. For every step he took, whatever was haunting this place would send him back two.

But he persevered. Buffy was somewhere upstairs, his senses told him. And if the first floor was any indication, she was in big trouble.

Spike tightened his grip on the banister. A vine shot out and pierced the palm of his hand, going directly through. He ripped the offending plant away. More vines reached out to entangle his feet. He ripped those away, too. His hands were shredded and bleeding copiously.

Slayer, you had better appreciate this, Spike grumbled as he fought against a sudden hurricane grade wind that tried to force him back down the stairs. Finally, vampire strength overcame it and he reached the top of the steps.

There were sounds coming from the end of the hallway. Spike forged ahead, picking his way through vines and rubble and flying debris. Whatever was doing this didn't know vampires, thankfully. Or that splinter would have hit his heart and not his side.

Finally Spike reached the door. And cursed himself for not bringing a machete. He started to tear at it with his bare hands. Behind it, he could hear Buffy. And someone else. Riley?! Were they - ?

The knob was free now. He pulled with all his strength. The door ripped from its hinges and collapsed beside him.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!"

Buffy. The git. In bed. TOGETHER.

Buffy looked up blearily. "Can't you knock?" she asked. Then reality hit. She was naked. In a bed. With Riley. While Spike stood less than ten feet away. Shit. This had better be a nightmare.

"What are you doing here?" Riley snapped, pulling on his pants.

"Looking for my wife!" Spike snarled. He marched over and started to pull Buffy away. Buffy obeyed mutely, still in shock. What had just happened? She silently accepted Spike's duster, wrapping it around herself. Her own clothes were nowhere to be found.

"Buffy, what the hell is going on?" he demanded.

Buffy shook her head, trying to clear her mind. "I, uh, something happened."

"Really? Ya think so?" Spike could barely keep his temper under control. "Thought you were trapped by some nasty ghosty when you were getting it on with this idiot!"

"Listen, Spike - "

"I ripped my way through hell knows what to find you. The whole damn house attacked me! All for this?" Spike growled, waving his hand to indicate the scene.

"It's not like we have anything!" Buffy defended herself.

"A marriage isn't enough?"

"It isn't real!"

"What about the kiss, luv? What was that to you? Do you go around kissing every guy like that?"

"YOU kissed ME."

"And you kissed back. Made ME think YOU actually realized that WE had something."

Riley glanced from Buffy to Spike and back again. "Listen, mister, I don't care who you are, but Buffy's MY girlfriend. So why don't you take a hike. You're obviously not wanted."

Spike sneered briefly before continuing his conversation with Buffy.

"I fought through hell knows what to find you! Dammit, Slayer," Spike's voice rose to a crescendo, "I was even worried about you!"

"You were worried?" Buffy asked, wonderingly. This was a strange turn of events. Spike seriously cared about her? She noticed how battered and beat up he looked. Whatever he had faced, it had been nasty. Very nasty. All this while she'd been -

"Whoa, wait a second, Slayer?" Riley blinked for a moment, then jumped up, shouting, "You're Hostile 17! Buffy, how the hell do you know the prisoner?"

"Listen mate, I'm nobody's prisoner."

"Well, Riley, that's a bit of a long story."

"Make it short," Riley snapped. It wasn't every day you finally scored with your girlfriend, had a guy barge in claiming he was her husband, only to find out said guy was a Priority One escaped hostile.

"His name is Spike. Remember, the one I said I was engaged to? And um, we're married."

"WHAT?!"

"She said, we're married. As in lawfully wedded husband and wife. The bonds of matrimony. 'Till death do us part."

"Buffy, how could you? You not only let that - thing - live, but you're married to it? What kind of Slayer are you?"

"A damn good one."

"Spike, this is my problem. Riley, it's a lot more complicated than that. Spike even helps us sometimes."

"Oh, I'm sure he 'helps' you. I can't believe I just had sex with you! You actually let that disgusting dead thing touch you?" Riley couldn't believe that this woman not only allowed vampires to live, but she would know them? Have a relationship with them?

Buffy stared at her former (yes, definitely former, they were so over now) boyfriend. Before she could open her mouth to yell at him, Spike reacted.

By punching Riley in the jaw. The larger man hit the floor with a moan.

"AAGGHH!"

"That's what you get for hitting humans."

"He, ow, was insulting you!"

Buffy rolled her eyes as she cautiously picked her way to the door. "He just found out a bunch of crap that he should've been told before. He can be excused for some freakoutedness."

"Then why aren't you going to go back and fuss over Soldier Boy?"

"Excusable doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at him." Buffy reached the main part of Lowell House. "What happened?"

"Some sort of haunt, I guess. Your Scoobies probably have the full story by now."

Buffy timidly walked down the splintered steps. "You went through this? For a moment there, Spike, you impressed me."

Spike moved behind her and picked her up, lifting her easily over the debris. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't last long."

Buffy fidgeted for a second, feeling a little embarrassed in Spike's arms. But it was preferable to walking barefoot through broken glass and splinters. "Thanks."

"I'm still mad about you and the git."

Buffy paused. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

Spike didn't answer, but simply continued walking. Even though she was covered in the git's scent, even though he still felt betrayed, for the first time, he felt as though whatever they shared could be something more. She had apologized.

The question was, did he want to follow where this could lead?

Chapter Eight

        Buffy lay curled up under her blankets, covered from head to toe in her yummy sushi pajamas. She and Spike had miraculously not run into the Scoobies on the way back to her dorm. The rest of the guys must still have been playing research party, not knowing the ghost thing has been stopped. Whatever. She had called Giles and told him she was okay.

        She rubbed her cheek against the flannel sheet, thinking about how awkward it had been leaving Lowell House. Barring one misguided attempt to walk barefoot on cold grass, she had let Spike carry her from Lowell to the steps of her dorm. He'd tried to bring her upstairs, but the night guard hadn't let him. School rules or something.

        Buffy wrinkled her nose. The guard's obvious opinion of them, her dressed only in Spike's jacket and Spike, well, being Spike, had almost gotten the guard punched. She had a feeling that Spike's lingering headache was all that stopped him.

        That was weird, how white knight protectory Spike had gotten lately. First with Riley, then with the night guard.

        Ugh. Riley. Why the hell had she had sex with him? Buffy knew there was no way in her right mind she would have done the whacky with him. And now she had one more complication in her screwed up life.

        And she hadn't even screwed the right one.

        "Buffy! Giles said you got out of the haunted house," Willow burst into the room, "but what really happened to you? We got all scared when the house kicked us out and Spike insisted on staying and then we found out what was going on with the house and - "

        "Slow down, Wills. I don't really know what happened, exactly," Buffy blushed, "but Spike got me out okay." She blushed some more, with guilty feelings all around for the sex with Riley part of the story. And why was she feeling guilty? It's not like she owed Spike anything, right?

        "You don't?" Willow flopped onto her bed. "See, Lowell used to be a house for runaways. And the lady who ran it, she was all ooh, you're evil little monsters and I will purify you. So she really screwed them up and made them all wonky, especially sexually, cause she had this whole thing about sex = bad. And now when their ghosty type selves start a-haunting, they make everybody do the whacky."

        "Oh. That's, that's good."

        Willow gave her a huh? expression.

        "Well, that means the ghosts could have done a possessing type thing, right? And then certain people cannot be held totally responsible for their actions. And that would be a really, really good thing."

        Now Willow was giving her the I know you have a secret so spill expression.

        "And that would be a good thing because?"

        "Because Spike found me having sex with Riley," Buffy blurted out.

        "Is the Spike part or the Riley part the bad?"

        "Do I haveta tell the truth?" she whined.

        "Yes."

        "The Riley part," Buffy admitted, staring intently at the covers. "That was so not an experience I want to repeat. And now Spike's all growly about it. I mean, I know he didn't like me dating Riley, but I wasn't actually ever, you know, going do anything."

        Just two days ago Buffy had been saying she was with Riley 100% and Spike was the inconvenience. And now it was the other way around?

        "And I can't believe I saw anything in Riley in the first place. Our non magicky kiss? Totally not cool. Big with the slobber, low on the passion. And I didn't even get all magicked up over him, I was thinking of Spike and it's just that he wasn't around and Riley was - "

        Buffy paused, realizing what she just said. She buried her head into her pillow. "I'm a mess."

        Willow had to agree. Her love life was nothing compared to Buffy's. At least she hadn't just admitted to having the hots for a formal mortal enemy who was currently her husband.

        Take that, General Hospital!

        ***

        Spike sat on his garbage dump scrounged couch in his crypt, drinking from his flask as he mulled over the night's events. Pity the chip had prevented him from showing that sanctimonious night guard not to judge other people like that. Particularly when the other people were him and Buffy.

        Though in the scheme of things, that was nothing. What really mattered was how Soldier Boy had gotten to do his Slayer.

        That really stuck in his craw. Seeing her, entwined with that loser, had been painful. And far too reminiscent of Dru with the Chaos Demon. And the Fungus Demon. And the -

        Spike threw his whiskey across the room. Then he ran to pick it up before it spilled all over the floor.

        Having safely retrieved the alcohol, he sat back down. He wished he knew what the hell the Slayer had been thinking. That there had been magic involved, there was no doubt. Spike had over a century under his belt, he knew magic when he saw it.

        The question was, how much had been Buffy betraying him and how much had been the spell?

        Before their kiss, Spike would have dismissed such questions. His bizarre connection with the Slayer was only for annoying her and not for anything else. Or so he had told himself.

        Then came the argument at the lawyer's, and the kiss. The kiss which said, loud and clear, that he wasn't alone in this attraction.

        And now he wanted the rest of it. Spike nodded firmly as he downed the whiskey. Buffy had chosen him over Soldier Boy, hadn't she? In a way. Sort of. Well, she hadn't made too big a fuss when he'd punched the guy. And she had left with him and had let him carry her.

        That counted for something, didn't it?

        It had to. It had to mean she and the git were over, that she was willing to give him a chance. Otherwise, Spike thought glumly as he took another swig, he would be even a bigger loser than the aforementioned git.

        Lost in his musings (not brooding mind you, but musings, there is a very big difference), he didn't here Anya come in.

        That didn't last long.

        "I am glad to see you are recovering from your ordeal," a too chipper voice interrupted his thoughts. "To take on a haunted house would most likely be painful." Anya sat on the tomb opposite him. "That is why I only do research. It is boring, but less likely to be harmful."

        "What are you doing here?"

        "To make sure you're okay."

        "I'm fine. Go away."

        Silly Spike. Like Anya would listen. "I'm staying. Xander says that humans are supposed to be concerned about people they perceive as friends, meaning those they have something in common with. As a fellow ex- demon, I care about you."

        Spike dragged his chair around so it didn't face Anya. Sometimes he was up to dealing with her. On the heels of finding Buffy with Soldier Boy, he was not.

        Anya didn't take the hint. "Do you want to know what was happening at Lowell?"

        "Some sort of haunting. Bunch of ghosties woken up and taking it out on the living."

        "No. Well, in a way. A very repressed woman tried to raise equally repressed children there. They left emotional memories behind and that's what caused the haunting. Or at least that's what Giles said." Anya nodded firmly. "This confirms why sexual repression is inherently evil, as I'm always telling Xander."

        "So?"

        "So, the haunts were making everyone be not repressed."

        Spike growled. So the git had been what Buffy had wanted.

        Anya cocked her head. A millennia of dealing with the romantically betrayed had taught her what that meant.

        "Did Buffy have sex with someone not you under the influence of the ghosts?"

        He didn't answer. She took it as a yes.

        "Just because she had sex while sexually unrepressed doesn't mean she does not reciprocate your feelings," Anya tried, ever so awkwardly, to comfort Spike. "It could be she was aroused and initiated intercourse with the first willing male." Pause. "It was a male, right?"

        "It was the git."

        "Riley?"

        Spike nodded.

        Well, that made things far more complicated. Buffy already had a relationship with Riley. Anya wrinkled her nose. She disliked the Initiative agent. His organization did not sound favorable for the continued health of an ex-demon like herself.

        "Once you broke the ghosts' hold, did Buffy remain with him?"

        "No." Spike jumped up and started pacing the room, agitated. "She left with me. Course, she was right pissed at the boy, with good reason. Soldier Boy got all insulting about our relationship. Practically called her a whore."

        He kicked the chair, ignoring that he'd called Buffy that the first time he'd seen her dancing with the git. The chair broke. Oops. "I showed him. Took him down with one punch, the wanker."

        "And Buffy was okay with this?"

        Spike laughed. "Slayer fussed a bit, but not to much. Think I beat her to the punch, so to speak. You know?"

        Anya did indeed know. "It does not sound like she prefers Riley over you," she added helpfully.

        "You think so?"

        "Yes, I do."

        Huh. Guess he's not the only one who thinks he might have a chance. Maybe he'll even be able to convince the Slayer to forget about Soldier Boy once and for all.

***

        "Can you believe it?!" Riley shouted as he paced the debriefing room. Forrest and Graham sat calmly in their chair, waiting for their friend to finish his rant.

        "You're telling me that it was all some kind of sub-terrestrial phenomenon?"

        "For the last time, Riley, whatever went on between you and Buffy was influenced by some kind of energy force that existed in Lowell House. That's what our resident brains say about the little fiasco that happened upstairs."

        "You know what? I'm not even surprised. Figures that it would take something like that to get close to Buffy. She's been pushing me away for weeks." Riley kicked his chair. The chair, bolted down, didn't budge. "Ever since she found out I was in the Initiative and I found out she's the Slayer. Knew she had issues about that."

        "You mean there's a civilian who knows about our operations?" Graham spoke up worriedly. "She needs to be contained."

        "Buffy's not like that," Riley sighed, "She's something called a Slayer."

        "That's only children's stories for little demons," Forrest corrected. "No such animal in real life."

        "Not true. Buffy's the Slayer, I'm sure of that."

        "With paranormal abilities?"

        "Yes."

        Forrest leaned back, a contemplative look on his face.

        "But that's not the worst of it. Turns out, she's married!"

        The other two men shot up, shocked by this revelation.

        "Not only is she married, her husband is Hostile 17!"

        "But the legends say the Slayer kills HSTs," Graham pointed out.

        "Apparently this one doesn't," Riley griped. "He came in on us and acted like he was the injured party! Can you believe it? And Buffy took his side." He slammed his fist into the wall. "I don't know what I ever saw in that girl. What kind of person has a relationship with a hostile?"

***

        Fascinating. Walsh watched the screen showing the debriefing room intently. Buffy Summers was the Slayer. Not only that, but a Slayer married to a sub-terrestrial? This could prove to be most useful information. Most useful indeed.

Interlude

"Ed! Michelle! Fancy meeting you here!"

Ed Harmon looked up from his table in the country club to see Danielle Addams headed their way. His wife waved her over, saying, "Danielle, how long has it been?"

"A month, at least," the justice of peace said as she pulled over free chair. "We haven't had a good sit down chat since dinner at the Barnes's. Last time we talked was on a business call with Ed. How did that go, anyway?"

Ed did a little sigh/laugh, thinking about the tangled issue of Ms. Summers and her divorce. "It's going. Not the most difficult case I've handled, but still..." he trailed off, making vague gestures to indicate frustration.

"You know, Michelle, when Ed told me this couple I'd married were trying to get divorced, he practically knocked my socks off! In all my years, I've never seen a sweeter or more devoted pair. And he says they can barely stand to be in the same room together!"

Michelle Harmon laughed. "Believe me, Danielle, from what Ed tells me, that's putting it politely."

"That true?"

"Yes, it is. Are you sure they weren't pulling your leg that night?" Ed asked.

"I've been a judge for twenty-five years and I know liars when I see them. Those two weren't. Oh, I wouldn't put it past that young man, Spike, to spin a tale or two - he was quite the smooth talking charmer - but nothing like that."

"They sure changed their tune by the time they got to my office. Hissing and spitting, at some times I thought they'd go for each other's throats!"

"Oh, Ed, that's not all you thought would happen," Michelle corrected, giving her husband a little push on the shoulder. Turning to Danielle, she said, "He told me that if they didn't kill each other, the room was about combust from the tension."

"Really? That's interesting. Why, last I saw them I felt like it was high time they got a room, if you know what I mean."

"I do, indeed. I remember when Ed and I first started dating we could scarcely keep our hands off each other." She smiled, remembering. "Honey, do you recall that one time, at your parents - "

Ed flushed at the memory. "I think my mother's jaw didn't snap shut for a week. We were rather randy teens. But this couple is a different story."

"What are their names again?"

"Buffy Summers and," Ed frowned slightly, "Spike. What kind of name is Spike?"

"Sounds like quite the bad boy," Michelle giggled, her mind conjuring images a la James Dean.

"Oh, he was. If I was younger, I'd have been jealous of Ms. Buffy Summers. You should have seen his eyes, Michelle. And the rest of the package wasn't bad either."

"And a charmer too?"

"Yes. Complete with the accent."

Michelle and Danielle giggled, sounding like teenage girls discussing a crush.

"Ladies!" Ed chided, feeling decidedly left out of the conversation.

"We're just having a bit of girl talk, dear."

"Humph. Well, in my opinion, Ms. Summers doesn't want anything to do with him. I've only met them once, but she sure proved how much they couldn't stand each other."

The two women exchanged knowing grins.

"That true?" Danielle asked.

"Absolutely. Spent the entire time bickering, getting into the other's face. Spike kept using crude innuendoes, insulting her. I'm surprised she ever talked to him at all."

"And you think this means they hate each other?" Michelle asked, giving her friend a wink.

"Of course."

"I say that our young couple just had a lover's quarrel and were taking it out on you. I wouldn't be surprised if you get an order any day now from Ms. Summers to cancel divorce proceedings."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. In fact, care to make a wager?"

Ed eyed his wife and her friend for a second before agreeing. "Sure."

"I bet that Ms. Summers cancels the divorce and remains married to her husband."

"That's highly unlikely," Ed scoffed, "if she didn't want a divorce, why'd she come to me? I'm going to win. What are the terms?"

"If you win, I'll take you to one of those Lakers' games. When I win, you'll take me to the ballet."

"When you win? So confident are we?" he teased.

"I am. You with me on this, Danielle?"

"Ed, all I can say is, which do you like better - Swan Lake or Sleeping Beauty?"

Ed leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. Women could be such romantics at times. When someone can't stand a person, it's dislike, pure and simple.

Michelle and Danielle just smirked. Men could be so obtuse at times. When that much passion is flying about a room, it's love, pure and simple.

***

Sorry, I know, not big with the Spuffy. Don't worry, next chapter we'll see some real action.

Chapter Nine

It was a beautiful night. The moon was bright, the skies were clear, and the air was just crisp enough to make the blood pump a little but faster.

Buffy loved patrolling on nights like this. You can't beat the exhilaration of the hunt while gliding through silent cemeteries, sensitive the most minute movement in the distance. On nights like this, she enjoyed being the Slayer.

And man did she need it. On the heels of the Lowell House fiasco last night, Buffy had a strong urge to kill something. Was that an unhealthy way to deal with problems?

She paused, considering the question. Nah. Evil things need killing, and if she finds it therapeutic, well, that's just a big plus in the Slayer column.

Minor moral quandary resolved, Buffy continued her patrol.

"Hello, Dearly Departed Alice Vincent," she read off the tombstone, before turning her eyes to look at the newly risen fledgling, "wake up on the wrong side of the coffin today?"

The vampire snarled and leaped forward. However, her foot was still stuck in the ground and she tripped, falling flat on her face. As she lay there, struggling to rise, Buffy crouched beside her, debating to stake now or later.

"No good punk teen," snapped Dearly Departed Alice, "can't you help an old woman when she's down?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled her up. Alice Vincent stood there a moment, dusted herself off, checked her hair, muttered, "I knew my daughter would bury me in plaid, I just knew it," then charged Buffy.

Buffy stepped to the side easily. "I have to agree, plaid is definitely not your thing," she commiserated, "I mean, what happened to the classy black dress?" Buffy dodged another clumsy attack. "Though I don't think black's your color either. Personally, I'd say you were a summer."

"Could you just be a good girl and stand still?" Alice lunged and tripped again. "Damn hip replacement."

"Though I can't tell what would suit your complexion better, blue or green. What kind of foundation do you use?"

"Mary Kay, Ivory 200," she paused, "and would you stop nattering and let me kill you?"

"Sorry, doesn't work that way, Alice," Buffy staked her without moving from her spot. "Welcome to Wonderland."

The vampire did that little pause-while-being-dusted thing before collapsing to the ground in ashes. Buffy shrugged and pocketed the stake. That was a lame quip, but with a name like Alice she couldn't resist.

Whistling "A Very Merry Un-Birthday", Buffy continued patrolling. And then stopped at the sound of a highly unwanted familiar voice.

"Now that was a pathetic fight, luv," Spike said as he emerged from the trees.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Were you following me?"

"Contrary to popular opinion, the world does NOT revolve around you. This is a graveyard, remember? I live in one, you know."

"Yes, you live in one across town."

Spike ducked his head. Oops. She wasn't supposed to remember that. Deciding that any back tracking would make him look even stupider, he forged ahead. "Slayer, we need to talk."

"About what?"

Spike gave her his patented you-know-what-I'm-talking-about look. "About everything."

Buffy leaned against the now doubly departed Alice's headstone. "Spike, I know you think we have some kind of relationship, but - "

She trailed off as he just LOOKED at her. Like he could see right through her and knew she was being all avoidy and was willing to wait around until she stopped being all avoidy. She flushed and looked away. "It's just that.."

He was beside her now, pulling her into his arms. "It's just what? You can't deny something's going on. Something confusing, maybe, but ignoring it won't make it go away."

"Seems like a good start to me," she muttered.

"Do you really believe that? Listen, would it be so bad if we tried to see if there was anything there? We're married, luv. Why can't you give it a chance?" he whispered into her ear.

So tempting. Buffy relaxed and leaned back into him. Mmm, nice. For a moment she could pretend that they were just two lovers trying to fix a misunderstanding. That she was no different than the girls down her hall back at the dorm. They cuddled for a moment, as Spike murmured promises about what they could do. Slowly his lips trailed from her ear down her jaw line and tickled her throat.

Her throat. Her neck, exposed. Exposed to Spike. To a vampire. Buffy yanked herself from his arms. She wasn't like the girls down the hall. And he wasn't just some cute college boy.

"We can't."

"Why the hell not?" Spike demanded. And it had been going so well, too.

"Vampire, Slayer. Slayer, Vampire. Do I need to draw a diagram?"

"Depends what they're doing in the picture."

"Ugh, no. Get your mind out of the gutter. Spike, we can't be together. Maybe if this was some alternate reality where we're not, you know, mortal enemies, but it's not."

"We are together. We're married, Mrs. William Montgomery."

"That was a spell," she insisted. "A spell caused by a somewhat drunk, petulant friend who was in a bad mood. That isn't a relationship, that's an accident."

"Then why did we say we were in love?" Spike challenged. "Anya tells me Willow's spell only made us get married. There was nothing in it about love."

"Marriage equals love, they go together. And what were you doing talking to Anya?"

Spike smirked. Was that jealousy he detected? "She thinks I'm a fellow former demon and that we ought to stick together."

"Former demon. Nice way of saying you're currently neutered."

Spike tried not to snarl at that crack. Instead, he gave her a little leer. "We both know I'm not neutered." Buffy turned red and stared at the ground. "And we're getting off track. People don't have to be in love to get married. Hell, in my day that was almost unheard of."

"What are you getting at?"

"Maybe Red's little spell made us admit to something already there."

"Sorry, but I think I'd know if I, ick, actually loved you."

Now that hurt. "You might if you gave it a shot. But you're too uptight to even give it a chance, aren't you?"

"It was a spell, Spike. Stop reading into it. That's only going to lead to badness."

"But you were happy, weren't you? I mean, not just surface happy but the real kind."

Buffy didn't answer. In fact, she started walking away.

"Because I know I was." Spike winced as that came out. That's the ticket. Sound like William the Bloody Awful Poet. And he did so well with Cecily.

Buffy stopped. Huh. Maybe the pathetic poet left inside was on to something. Who knew? Encouraged, he continued talking.

"And spells aside, why did you kiss me? Glare daggers at any girl I flirt with? Let me punch Riley? More importantly, why are you still listening to me?"

Buffy didn't respond for a moment. Spike was worried that she was just considering the best way to make him a truly neutered vampire. But in the end, all she said was, "You're a vampire."

"And you're the Slayer. Have any more excuses?"

"It's not an excuse. It's a reason."

"That's not good enough."

"It'll have to be." She started walking again.

"All I'm asking for is a chance, Buffy. Not a commitment. Just give whatever we have a chance. If it turns out you're right and this is the biggest mistake of the century, then I'll go along with the divorce and make no fuss about it." Spike hated himself for the almost pleading tone in his voice. He wasn't sure if it was love he felt for her, but he damn well knew he wasn't going to let her go without a fight. Vampires don't give up claims that easy.

Buffy stared at her shoes. Toes are a bit scuffed, probably should clean them a little, she thought almost giddily. In another part of her mind, bad brain whispered, Spike called you Buffy. He almost never does that. And he did that in a really sweet and tender voice. And for once, moral voice and logic voice were in agreement.

"I'll think about it."

With that, she finally exited the scene.

Spike ran his hand through his hair, trying to figure out if he won this bout, lost, or tied. On the other hand, this probably worked better than Anya's original suggestion. For some reason he didn't think a speech about interlocking bodies and matching parts, followed by 'please remove your clothing now' was the way to Buffy's heart. That would have definitely gotten him staked for sure.

Unfortunately, Anya was his only source on the inner workings of the female mind at the moment. For some reason, he doubted Drusilla's idea of a good gift was the way to woo Buffy. Hopefully Anya had some better ideas than a doll holding the still warm heart of the shop keeper.

At least Buffy had said maybe. That gave him more leeway than an outright no, right? With that thought, Spike went off to find an ex- vengeance demon for some lonely hearts help.

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