Chapter Ten

Joyce was cleaning the casserole dish with the news turned on in the other room, the volume high. She wondered why she bothered cooking big meals when it was just her. She usually ended up throwing the last two servings away because they went bad. It might be a good time to start looking into those frozen dinners for one she saw in the supermarket.

" - in local news, authorities have determined that the recent rash of animal attacks were due to a rabid coyote. Animal Control will capture it any day now, they assure - "

She smiled. A few years ago, she would have fussed a bit and wondered about getting a rabies shot. These days, she knew better. In Sunnydale terms, 'rabid coyote' meant 'vampire'. Though this was the first time Animal Control had gotten involved. Probably just a new addendum to the standard newscast, all for increasing the level of denial enjoyed by her neighbors.

Joyce put the dish away. Okay, not all her neighbors. Mr. Gaiden from two houses down was part An''kl demon. He came over for coffee occasionally and tried to convince her to come join him and his buddies for poker. She always refused. Gambling for kittens just sounded wrong, no matter how good the company was.

Dishes done and kitchen clean (relatively), she settled down to watch some TV.

"In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups..."

***

Detective Lenny Briscoe was interrogating the suspect. The suspect looked like he was about to crack any second now. Joyce leaned in closer, the better to hear, as the big plot twist emerged when -

"Mommy!" Buffy shouted upon entering the house. Spotting her mother in the living room, she bounded over to sit next to her. "Mommy, I need help."

Joyce sighed and cast her eyes to the sky for a moment as she turned off the TV. Of course, the only thing that could bring her baby home was a Mom-class problem. Hell, she had done that in college.

Without missing a beat, she stretched her arm around Buffy and pulled her close. "What's wrong?"

"Everything."

"What kind of everything?" Joyce raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Is this a Slayer everything or a Buffy everything?"

It had better be a Buffy everything. There were parenting books on those. But no matter how many times she checked the shelves at Barnes & Noble, there weren't any on being the mother of the Chosen One.

"An Everything everything."

"Oh." She tried on her I-am-the-wise-mother-who-knows-all look. It had worked for *her* mother, hadn't it? "Tell me about it."

Joyce noticed Buffy started avoiding her eyes and finding the wall very interesting. If there was one thing her daughter excelled at, besides killing things of course, it was avoiding the issue. It didn't really matter what the issue was; Buffy could always be counted on to deny its existence.

"Are you pregnant?" she opted for the shock value question, inwardly praying that it was wrong. Joyce thought she had done very well dealing with her daughter's calling. She wasn't ready to be a grandmother, as well.

"NO!" Buffy protested. "Where'd you get that idea? No pregnancy here. No sirree. Uh-uh."

"Then what is it?"

Buffy pouted and scowled all together at once. "Big messy confusing long story that's kind of embarrassing and I should have told you before but didn't and - "

"Buffy, I survived learning you were the Slayer. I survived learning that you died - "

"That was only for a minute."

" - and I survived learning that you had sex. Honey, just explain the problem to me and then I can help."

"ImarriedSpike."

Joyce blinked. Not what she was expecting.

"When did this happen?"

"Maybe two months ago?"

Joyce's mind whirled. "And you didn't tell me? Are you living with him? When did he come back here? Who did the service? Why didn't you invite me?"

Buffy stared at her mother. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. She'd been expecting an I-can't-believe-you-did-this lecture, leading into a conversation where her mother told her the best way to get rid of Spike once and for all. Instead, her mom seemed more upset about not being informed about the wedding and wanting details.

She jumped off the couch and started to pace.

"It's not the married part that's the problem. Willow did a spell and we got married and I'm getting a divorce but that's not the problem either. Well, in a way it is because Spike doesn't want a divorce and he's acting all romanticky about it and you know, Slayer/Vampire equals bad and I don't know what to do and why are you smiling like that?"

Joyce quickly tried to hide her smile. Okay, so she wished she had been told about the marriage earlier. And Spike wasn't exactly her first choice (all right, given the list at the moment he was, but she'd been hoping for some more entries). But she couldn't help feeling a hint of satisfaction that her daughter was in something that could approach a stable relationship eventually. With some work, of course.

"Slow down and start from the top."

Buffy took a deep breath and spilled everything. From meeting Riley to the chip to Willow's spell to Spike's oddly possessive attitude to the Lowell House incident and finally to Spike's plea for a chance.

" - and I don't know what to do, Mom," she finished. "He's making everything all confusing and complicated."

Her daughter never did anything halfway, did she? Joyce sighed as she tried to sort out the onslaught of information. In a calm voice, she asked, "Well, Buffy, what do you want to do about this?"

Buffy whined and stuck her face in the couch cushion. "That's just the thing. I don't know what I want."

That much was obvious.

"It sounds like Spike likes you. Do you like him back?"

"This isn't high school, Mom! Hello, mortal enemies here. Hell, he tried to kill me only a month or so before we got married!"

"You're avoiding the question."

Buffy slouched in her seat. "Sometimes I do. When he's not being a really big jerk or all evil or something."

"Mm-hmm."

She continued talking, "I mean, it's not like he's full time evil like a lot of vampires, right? And he can be nice when he wants to be. Willow says he was super supportive when she was being all depressed about Oz leaving. Of course," Buffy reconsidered, "he was trying to bite her at the time."

Joyce made no comment. She sat there silently, waiting for her daughter to work this out.

"But that's just Spike being, you know, Spike." Buffy worried her lip for a moment. "He did say he'd lay off if I proved to him that we so didn't work in a married way. So if I give in and it all goes to hell in a handbasket (in a not literal sense) then I can just say I told you so and he'll go away."

Feeling far less confused and much more resolved, Buffy bounded up off the couch. "Thanks for talking to me, Mom."

Joyce's lips quirked up. She hadn't actually done much of the talking - only listened to Buffy's ranting. But that's what mothers are for. Listening.

"Where are you going?"

"To ask Spike out on a date and prove how wrong he is!"

Joyce leaned back into the couch as she watched her daughter leave the house. You'd think after nineteen years she'd be used to how Buffy's mind worked.

Well, there was nothing much to do but turn on the TV and offer the mismatched couple her best wishes. Buffy could do worse. Okay, maybe not much worse from a maternal viewpoint, but at least he wasn't a complete loser. And Joyce knew what a loser looked like. After all, she had married one.

***

After leaving her mom's house, Buffy headed to Spike's crypt. Her plan was to burst in, tell him she was willing to date him, watch said date collapse in disaster, and go home with all freaky Spike feelings gone and start checking out the cute guy down the hall.

When she reached his crypt, Buffy stood in front of his door for several minutes. To enter or not to enter, that is the question. If she went in, that could lead to all around badness. But if she didn't, she'd be a big fat scaredy-cat.

You know, when you get down to it, scaredy-cats know what they're doing.

"Make up your mind, Slayer! I haven't got all day!"

Forgot about that vamp sense thing. Spike knew she was here.

Well, there was no hiding now. Buffy gave the crypt door a push. Being a heavy door it didn't budge. She gave it a harder push. It slid open a little, then got stuck. She pushed again. Nothing. Frustrated, Buffy kicked the door. Hard.

It flew open and cracked on the opposite wall. Jagged door pieces made a dusty pile on the ground. Oops.

"What was that for?" Spike demanded, getting up from his seat on his sarcophagus. He waved his hand, trying to clear the disturbed dust and dirt. Through it all, he could see the outline of Buffy, standing in the doorway with an embarrassed look on her face. "You smashed my damn door!"

"You should have oiled the hinges or something! It got stuck!"

"I got it open just fine!"

"And then you shut it too tight."

"You're saying the door that YOU broke is now my fault?"

"Yes!"

"But you're the one who kicked it!"

"Well - " Buffy paused. They were not getting off on the right start. "Okay, I broke your damn door. Happy?"

"My door's still broken."

"Here's an idea. Get a real house. An apartment, a straight - "

"A what?"

"Funny British word for an apartment."

"That's a flat, luv," Spike sighed. Anya told him to be patient with Buffy's faults and not judge, otherwise he was being a 'vengeance worthy example of masculinity'. And Anya, he had no doubt, was fully capable of performing vengeance for wronged women if so moved.

"Flat, straight, still makes no sense."

"Like your mind, Slayer." Hey, arguing is an integral part of their relationship.

Buffy scowled. "Hey! Listen, Spike, I came here to - "

"Break my door," he supplied helpfully.

"No, actually, I had a moment of temporary insanity and came here to ask if you wanted to go the Bronze. But obviously you're too big a jerk for that to work." She turned around to storm out. Pity there wasn't a door to slam for dramatic effect.

Spike watched her go, glaring at her back. Stupid bitch, breaking his door - wait a second, what did she say? He hurried after her.

"Wait! Buffy, what was that?"

Buffy pretended she didn't hear him and kept walking. She doubted it would work, but it was worth a shot.

"Buffy!" Spike finally caught up with her. "Forget about the door - "

"It's not the door. Spike, we can't be in the same room without fighting."

"So?"

"So, that's bad."

"Luv, that little spat was no different than what any other couple goes through. You can't blame it on Slayers and vampires or anything else." Buffy didn't respond. "You owe me a date."

Buffy stood still a moment after Spike finished talking. Her reasonable, rational self wanted to say forget it and keep walking. Instead, she turned to him and asked, "You buying?"

"Only if you don't ask where the money comes from."

Buffy made a face. "I should. But I won't."

"Step in the right direction."

"Actually, it's a step backwards."

"Is not."

"Is too."

Bickering, Buffy and Spike walked to the Bronze, side by side, blonde heads bobbing in animated argument.

***

While Anya babbled about something (undoubtedly important to her) Xander sipped his beer and watched the dancers on the floor. Anya had tried to drag him out there earlier. However, he had promptly tripped and struck a very big football player. Said football player had taken offense and tried to separate Xander's important parts from other important parts. Anya had successfully intervened (and therefore wounded his masculinity). Xander wasn't going to risk dancing anytime soon.

As he tuned out his girlfriend and nodded at the right moments, he could have sworn he saw Buffy dancing with Spike out on the floor. He choked on his next sip of beer.

"Xander, are you okay? Breathing is good for you. You should start doing that again."

"Uh-huh. Ahn, how many drinks have I had?"

"One and a half," she supplied helpfully. Then a look of horror crossed her face. "You're not too drunk to have sex tonight, are you?"

"What? No! I just thought I saw Spike of all people dancing with Buffy."

Anya turned her head in the direction he was looking. "You did." She cocked her head, considering the couple. "I am pleased to see they are finally giving in to their mutual attraction."

"What attraction?" Xander stood up. "Will must have done a spell again. 'Cause there's no way Buffy would let Spike near her. Especially touch her like - " He stood up as he saw the vampire's hands start to wander.

"Hands off, Dead Boy!"

Spike turned around. The whelp stood there, glaring at him. He shrugged and turned back to face Buffy.

Unfortunately, Buffy wasn't willing to continue dancing.

"Xander, what are you doing here?" she asked, her face getting that tense, tight expression people get when they're trying to be polite but are really upset inside.

"Anya wanted to go out. Buffy, what the hell are you doing with him?"

The him in question started growling. Buffy gently put a hand on his arm and gave him a look, silently telling him to let her handle this.

Spike fought the urge to mark his claim. Instead,

"I'm getting a drink. Want something?"

Buffy shook her head. He left, for the moment.

Spike safely gone, Xander started to let loose. "Buffy? Is this a spell? Can you explain?"

Buffy restrained the desire to shout, 'Why do I have to explain myself to you?!'. Instead, she merely said, "No spell. Spike and I are married. We decided to see if it can work. It probably won't, but I'm willing to try and so is he. End of story."

"No, not end of story! Last time you were under a spell, you were all 'no, I'm the Slayer, I'm immune'."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It felt different. Xander, I can assure you, this is spell free."

Xander huffed at that. Trying another tactic, he said, "But Buffy, Spike is a vampire. Vampire equals evil. Remember?"

"I'm the Slayer. It's not like I can forget."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Then what's up with you and the ungrateful dead?"

"I don't know. But I want to find out."

Xander really, really wanted to yell at her some more. Tell her to stake the monster and get it over with. But he had known Buffy long enough to know when she was determined. Like now. Buffy was mimicking Willow's resolve face. Resolve face meant no further discussion under pain of, well, pain of something bad. He had never tested Willow to find out. Given how strong Buffy was, he wasn't about to test her either.

"I won't make a fuss. Just promise me one thing."

"Yes?"

"When this reaches critical meltdown, let me be there to watch you dump him. It'll give me a happy."

Buffy's lips quirked up. "When I dump Spike, I promise you can have a seat."

With a nod, Xander left. Buffy let out a sigh. One roadblock dealt with. For now. She wasn't looking forward to the blow-up that would occur if she decided to drop the divorce.

Since when was she acknowledging that possibility? Buffy frowned slightly. Her whole plan hinged on Spike proving himself a total jack-ass. They date, they fail, she dumps. That was the plan.

Only, Spike had been charming, witty, and a good dancer. He hadn't made any crude remarks, gestures, or been at all vampire-y. In fact, if Buffy hadn't known better, she would have thought she was on a date with a perfectly human guy. Why did Spike have to confuse her like that?

"The whelp leave like a good little boy?"

Speak of the devil. Wow, let the irony flow.

"Don't call him that. He has a name, you know."

Spike snorted. Buffy mock glared at him. "You should be nicer to my friends."

"When they're nicer to me, I will be," was his retort. Setting down his drink, he pulled her back to the dance floor. Spike smiled as Buffy slid into his arms easily and joined him in moving to the music. That her conversation with Xander had been negative was a sure thing in his mind. But the whelp had left without causing any trouble and she was still willing to dance. He had caught the tail end - Buffy was still planning on this to fail. Spike decided not to hold it against her. His girl never gave into anything without a fight. That's what he lo-, er, liked best about her.

***

"That Riley's old girlfriend?"

"Looks like." Forrest watched the dancing couple. "Never could see what he saw in her."

Graham checked out the blonde from his vantage point at the bar. "She's hot. Have to give him credit for that."

"True. But she's a risk."

"And a paranormal being." Graham frowned slightly. "Is that Hostile 17 with her?"

Forrest studied the man opposite Buffy intently. "Yes."

"Shouldn't we call the unit, prepare for a retrieval?"

"No. We should report to Walsh, let her decide. She might have something special planned."

"Can't believe the so-called Slayer is dancing with an HST."

"Failures like that are why our unit exists. The old ways are not effective."

"Science, not superstition," replied Graham, quoting Walsh's primary directive for the Initiative.

"Damn right."

The soldiers left the Bronze, ready to report to their superior their observations. Buffy and Spike continued dancing, unaware of what was being planned.

Chapter Eleven

"Closing time, people," the deejay announced. "Finish your drink, finish your dance, then head out. We'll still be here tomorrow guys, so don't you worry."

Spike quirked an eyebrow at Buffy, sitting next to him in their booth. "Care to dance?"

Buffy made a face as the deejay put the final song on. "To that? You have got to be kidding me. Let's go."

Spike nodded. At least she showed some understanding to what good music was. He moved to help her out of her seat. As he did so, Buffy's lips tilted up. That's one of the funny things she learned about Spike tonight. He did all these old fashioned, gentlemanly things with her. Like help her up, or pull the chair out for her first. When Riley had done them, there was a faintly patronizing air that accompanied it. With Spike, it was all 'this is the way you're supposed to treat a lady'. Angel had done that too. Must be their whole born in another century deal.

They threaded their way through the few remaining stragglers tiredly gyrating to the music, then stepped out the door. Under the dim illumination of the Bronze's sign, Buffy stuck her hands in her pockets and looked at the ground. Here came the awkward moment. Does he leave her here? Try to walk her home? Do some typically Spike-like crude thing and shatter the illusion?

Spike mimicked Buffy and slipped his own hands into his duster pockets. This was feeling decidedly too human date-like. Not an area of expertise for him. Where was his guide to dating, Anya? She must have some advice for this sort of thing. Hell, she had advice for everything else.

"So," Buffy said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence thing, "what next?"

"Well, my original plan involved kissing you senseless and taking you away to my crypt to ravish you. But I'm open to suggestions."

"You try it and this whole thing's off."

"That's why I said I'm open to suggestions. Knew you'd feel that way about it."

Buffy frowned. "What are you saying?"

"Probably not what you seem to think I am."

"I heard something about ravishing me. How did you mean that?"

"It was a joke, luv. I didn't mean it," Spike back pedaled, sensing impending Slayer wrath. Not how he wanted this night to end.

"So you don't want to ravish me?"

Spike got a deer caught in headlights look. What was the right answer? Yes meant he only wanted her for sex, no might mean he doesn't find her attractive...

"Uh..."

Buffy laughed at his confusion. Teasing Spike was fun; he got the cutest look on his face when you stumped him.

What was so funny? Then Spike realized - "Slayer, were you just flirting with me?"

"Maybe," Buffy taunted, a sparkle in her eye. "What do you think?"

"I think you were."

"Then I guess I was."

The two smiled at each other, enjoying the silliness of the moment. This wasn't so bad, now was it?

Buffy was the first to look away. This evening wasn't going according to plan. First, he's all Boyfriend!Spike at the Bronze, and here she is being all Flirt!Buffy, and that so won't lead to the big messy break up that's on the schedule.

Spike sighed mentally. There she goes again. He could see the wheels in her head turning - and they were spinning in a direction away from him.

"I have to go now," Buffy announced abruptly. "Patrol. Dorm. Stuff."

"I'll come," he offered.

"I don't need help."

"'Course you don't. Doesn't mean I can't tag along for the fun."

"Fine. Just don't get in my way," Buffy said as she set off to patrol. Spike grinned. Well, coming from Buffy that was a positively friendly invitation. He trotted after her.

She marched through a few cemeteries, the park, and the usual route checking out the alleys behind the bars. The few vamps they found, Spike wisely let her stake. She was obviously in a mood. Not to mention, it was fun to watch her fight. Spike had thought so since the first time he had seen her.

Lost in memories of that infamous meeting (with occasional alterations making it turn out much more enjoyable for the both of them), Spike didn't notice the pack of vamps until they were upon them.

He wasn't long in recovering, though, taking out his stake the instant the first vamp made a jab at him. A few feet away, Buffy dealt death to hers with equal grace. Spike watched her a moment before impaling his attacker without turning around to face him. Before the dust had hit the ground, Spike had already started in on another.

Buffy twisted away from the ill timed blow of one lady vamp, pivoting to line up for a strike. Dust. Another vampire flung himself at her, practically begging, 'stake me!'. Buffy obliged. Dust. The same went for the vamp sneaking up behind her. Buffy turned at her waist, stake in ready position, and stabbed. Dust. She was on a roll, pumped and ready for action.

Very soon, there was only one vampire left. He had probably been the leader, sending out the minions to soften up the enemy before coming in for the kill himself. Spike guessed the vamp's age at about twenty or so. A little young to think he could take on a Slayer, but then Spike had been that age when he'd killed his first one. However, Spike had no intention of allowing any Slayer killings tonight.

Buffy saw the last vampire coming in at her. Waiting until it was almost upon her, Buffy lunged forward to stake it. Just as her stake pierced its heart, Buffy realized that Spike had had the same idea, only his stake came through the back.

As the vampire collapsed to dust, Buffy and Spike were just barely able to turn away their weapons from striking each other. Buffy collapsed against him, causing him to trip and fall backwards to the ground, taking her along for the ride.

"Oops."

Buffy blushed as she realized what a compromising position she'd gotten them into. Spike lay on his back, with her stretched out on top.

"I'm not complaining." In fact, Spike was quite enjoying the feel of the Slayer lying all squished on top of him. Parts were touching other parts in a verrry nice way. Though it would be better if she would just scoot down a little further - No, remember what Anya had said. Think with the brain above, not below, the belt. Well, actually she had said, 'Don't be a typical male and think with your penis,' but it all meant the same thing.

Just as he was getting that under control, Buffy had to sit up. And straddle him.

Now that was a lovely sight. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, good view of her heaving chest. She was obviously still charged from the fight. Not to mention exactly how she was straddling him. He could get used to this.

Buffy wondered why she wasn't, you know, pulling away. Probably had something to do with how good this felt. Especially the way Spike was pressing against her - Buffy's eyes flew open. Was that what she thought it was? She started to bolt away.

However, Spike had other ideas. He sat up abruptly and grabbed hold of her arms, pulling her against him. Anya was probably right, but no way was he watching Buffy run away. He kissed her, hard.

"Mmph!"

Buffy couldn't honestly say that she hadn't seen that coming - or that she'd fought particularly hard against it. Instead of breaking away, she opened her mouth and let his tongue in. They kissed passionately for a few minutes, stopping only when her annoying need to breathe interrupted. Spike tugged her back down, so they lay on the cemetery ground. His hands let go of her arms and ran down her back, ghosting their way back up under her shirt. Buffy responded with an eager moan.

"You know," he murmured into her ear, trailing little kisses against her, "there is actually a very comfortable bed back in my crypt."

Spike's words served as a cold dash of ice water to Buffy. She quickly rolled off him and got to her feet. "I knew this was too good to be true. You always have to screw things up!"

Spike stood up, frustrated. Things had been going so well! "It's not like you were saying no!"

"Now I am! You actually thought I would go back to your CRYPT with you?"

"Well, yeah. Why not?"

"For starters, it's a crypt!"

"So that's it. Not that I was asking for more, but that I was reminding you I wasn't some milk-sop college boy? C'mon, SLAYER, you know better."

Buffy's face tightened. "Maybe I do. Thanks for the night, Spike. I think I'd better go now."

She left him standing in the graveyard. Spike watched her go, then kicked a gravestone in disgust. It shattered. Looks like another trip to Anya's was in order. Hopefully her advice would stick next time.

***

Buffy stomped up the stairs to her dorm room and flopped onto her bed, grateful that Willow had found other places to sleep at night. Right now, she was not going to pleasant Buffy company. She was cranky and wired and edgy -

And seriously horny from an aborted make-out session.

Buffy rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Everything was going all screwy now, and she wasn't even getting screwed. Well, the last part was her own fault. Spike was more than willing in that department.

But doing anything with Spike seemed wrong. And not just in a he's a vampire way. That was the scary part. As much as she tried to blame the most recent mess on his vampire-ness (is that a word?) she knew that wasn't true. It really boiled down to the fact she wasn't ready to sleep with a guy she'd only gone on one date with. Even if they were married. And that's what really freaked her. Because that meant that she DID want a relationship with Spike; she just needed time.

Why couldn't she just declare him vampire, therefore evil and off limits? Why did he have to be so sweet sometimes, like at the Bronze when that sleazy guy was checking her out and Spike made the lumpies at him and then they went and slow danced on the floor and he held her really close but still gave her room to breathe?

Buffy smiled. It had been so strange, and kind of nice, to see Spike in that light. Everything at the Bronze had been wonderful, barring Xander's little interruption (she was still a little pissed at him about that), and she had had a great time. Much better time than with Riley.

Okay. Stop analyzing date. Date analysis only leads to freak outs and badness. Go to sleep, forget the Spike date ever happened, and deal with it in the morning.

Buffy put on her pajamas and tucked herself under the covers.

And decided not to acknowledge the hope her dreams had a special peroxided, blue eyed guest star helping her work out any residual horniness.

***

After Graham and Forrest had reported their observations to Walsh, she ordered Finn to come and see her. They had much to discuss.

"Agent Finn, I understand you were recently engaged in a relationship with the paranormal being known as the Slayer."

"Yes ma'am."

"And that you are aware of her own relationship with Hostile 17."

"Yes ma'am."

Walsh got up from behind her desk and walked around the room a moment. "At ease, Agent Finn. You're not on trial for your private life."

Riley relaxed minutely.

"Did you know that there are a multitude of paranormal beings in the world?" she brought up conversationally. "We've got the bulk of the HSTs catalogued, we believe, yet there are others we have insufficient data on. Witches, for example. Humans who are capable of tapping into the very forces HSTs thrive on. Seers, born with the ability to perceive the world with senses the average human cannot comprehend."

Riley made no comment. He merely stood there, waiting for Professor Walsh to reach her point.

"This brings me to the Slayer. According to current data, a human girl is somehow granted the powers of most HSTs and charged with the protection of humanity. She may even be possessed by an HST herself. Quite a fascinating story, when you think about it."

"It is," Riley agreed cautiously, wondering where this was leading.

Walsh turned to him. Bluntly, she said, "I want to get my hands on the current Slayer. She would make an excellent test subject, providing us with data on a paranormal being like herself. If at all possible, I want to recapture Hostile 17 as well in order to study their interactions together. The amount of data we have on anything approaching human/HST relations is abominable. Studying the Slayer and Hostile 17 together might remedy that. Do you understand me?"

"What do you want me to do?" Riley responded tersely.

"I'd like you to help us capture the Slayer and Hostile 17, using any information you have from your association with them."

Riley paused, his soldier façade breaking a moment. "I don't think I can betray Buffy, Professor Walsh," he admitted.

"Even though she betrayed you by lowering herself to be with a hostile?" Walsh asked. She was well aware of his opinions regarding the Slayer's relationship with the vampire.

"Even then. As useful as data on the Slayer might prove to us, I believe it helps the cause of the Initiative more to have her out on the streets."

Walsh was not surprised by this, by any means. Agent Finn was a soldier with a rock solid honor code. He had yet to fully embrace all the - the subtleties (yes, that's a good word), all the subtleties of the Initiative's work. She wasn't worried. In time, he would learn.

"I understand. I'll take your opinion into consideration. And Hostile 17?"

Riley's face now betrayed a flicker of pleasure at the thought. "Ready and willing to help you there, ma'am."

That would do, for now, Walsh decided. Hopefully, his position regarding the Slayer would change in the future. And if it didn't do so naturally, she would help it along. Finn was one of their best recruits; there was no reason to alienate him.

Chapter Twelve

Buffy woke up with sun streaming onto her face from the window. With a yawn, she stretched, every muscle totally relaxed. Her dreams last night had been just what she needed.

She stopped mid-stretch. Quick, guilt check. Should she feel guilty for having sexy dreams about her husband, who happens to be a vampire? Buffy studied her Guilt Meter. It told her to feel mildly disturbed, but not obsess about it. Issue resolved, Buffy stood up to get dressed.

Then sat back down when Willow entered the room.

"Good morning," Buffy said cheerily as Willow made her way to her closest and began to pick out clothes.

Willow turned around. "Aren't you a perky Buffy this morning? Have a good night's sleep, did you?"

"Uh-huh. Verry nice. How about you?"

Willow blushed a little and buried her face into the sweater she was holding. "I, uh, slept fine."

"I bet you got a lot of sleeping done," Buffy agreed with a straight face, amused by her friend's embarrassment.

"So, uh," Willow quickly searched for a new topic of conversation, "what did you do last night?"

"I, uh, I - " Buffy fumbled, unsure about how to say she had gone on a date with Spike and then made out with him in the graveyard.

Willow's eyes widened as she skipped over to Buffy's side. If she read her friend correctly, there were smoochies to tell! "Did you go on a date? Was he cute? What's his name?" Willow frowned a second. "And how are you going to tell him you're already married? Oh no, you'll break the poor guy's heart! Poor nameless Buffy's date guy."

"Relax Will, there will be no breaking of hearts, because there was no nameless date guy."

Willow raised an eyebrow. Tell me another, Buffy. "You got the I had a date blush going, and the cheery morning mood, and the clothes on the floor are your knock'em dead outfit. That means date. So spill."

Willow had on her resolve face. Buffy knew this meant that she had to spill, or else. No one had ever figured out what "or else" meant, but they never wanted to find out. "It's sort of complicated."

"Okay."

"And you'll probably disapprove of him."

"Buffy, I recently realized I was gay and have just come back from my girlfriend's room, where I spent the night. Glass house, no throwing stones allowed."

"Spike doesn't care that I went on a date because Spike was the date."

Willow blinked. Then blinked again. "I can't say I'm surprised. Of course, I can't say I expected that either. Why?"

Buffy frowned. "Long. Complicated. Basically, Spike convinced me to give our marriage a chance. So I did. Hence, the date."

Willow tried to get a reading on how Buffy felt about this. As the supportive best friend, what should she do? Say Spike equals bad, so forget about him? Ask for details in a concerned way, or a curious way, or a concerned and curious way? Tell Buffy to follow her heart, even if it led to Spike?

Willow opted to treat this like any other date. "So, how did it go?"

"That's where things get super confusing. It went well. We had a good time, he was for the most part only minorly jerk like, and he paid for the drinks." Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Of course, I was careful not to ask where he got the money. Willow, should I have asked? Was I being a bad Slayer by not asking?"

"This was a Buffy night," Willow reassured, "and if Buffy goes on a date, she doesn't insist the guy explain where he gets the money. Besides, I'm sure there are legitimate ways for Spike to earn money."

Buffy gave her a look.

"At least you know he didn't steal it from his dinner," Willow offered helpfully.

"For some reason, that's oddly comforting."

"I try. So," Willow tried to get a little more information, "why was it super confusing?"

"Because he was supposed to be a big jerk and then I could dump him without feeling guilty," Buffy explained patiently. "That was the plan."

Willow nodded supportively. This was obviously a Buffy logic moment. There was nothing to do but look like you understand and hope you can puzzle it out later.

"But of course Spike couldn't follow the plan," Buffy complained. "He had to be all perfect gentlemanly for the date part anyway and then we went patrolling and then there was the whole me falling on top of Spike fiasco, and then we - " Buffy stopped abruptly.

"And then you?" Willow prompted. She had a strong feeling this was the part that involved smoochies.

"And then we said goodnight and went home," Buffy finished quickly, cheeks turning bright red.

"Did you say goodnight the same way Tara and I say goodnight?" Willow asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"How else do you say - Will, what a dirty mind you have!"

"You figured it out," Willow pointed out.

"Humph."

"So," Willow continued, "what are you going to do from here?"

Buffy thought a moment. Then her lips quirked up. "I think I'd like to say goodnight to Spike again."

Good for you, Buffy, Willow thought.

***

Later that same day, Anya marched over to Spike's crypt. She knew he and Buffy had gone on a date last night, and she wanted details! She quite enjoyed helping with the non-vengeance part of the relationship and desired to see results.

She found Spike, as she more often than not did, sitting in front of the television watching bad daytime TV. Distractedly, Anya noticed it was one of the ones with the overly dramatic music, funny golden lighting, and a great deal of sex and vengeance going on; the last parts being the only interesting things.

"How did your date with Buffy go?" Anya said insistently from her position behind Spike.

At the sudden sound, Spike jumped up. "You know, there's this brilliant thing called a door. You knock on it."

"Your door is missing," Anya informed him, "so I was unable to knock."

"Oh, right. But you should still say hello or something. Let a fellow know you're there before asking questions."

"I consider my usage of human conventions to be a continually expanding process. I will try to remember that one." Anya then changed the topic back to her original question. "How did your date with Buffy go?"

Spike shrugged. "Went okay until I kissed her. Slayer sends the most confusing signals I've ever seen."

"Did you kiss or did you aggressively proposition her?"

"Er, maybe a bit of the first leading into the second?" Spike answered.

"Spike!" Anya scolded. "I thought we had determined that the directly sexual approach wouldn't work. You were supposed to just stick to kissing her, not initiate intercourse!"

"All I did was kiss her," Spike whined, "I didn't get to do anything else."

"But you tried to do more," Anya accused. "What did I tell you about that?"

"Think with the brain above, not below, the belt," Spike dutifully recited.

"Actually, I said - "

"That's not the point, Anya. What I want to know is, what should I do next?"

Anya frowned. "I don't know. Since I had initiated the relationship, Xander didn't have to worry about that. Though I could ask him what he did for his previous girlfriends."

"That's okay," Spike quickly assured her, "no need to involve him." However, Spike couldn't help but think it would be interesting to see Xander's face when Anya asked for help with his courtship of Buffy.

"You're right." Anya thought a moment. "Maybe you should send flowers? Flowers are pretty, and can be expensive. Spending money is a good way to show you care. I always feel very happy when Xander gives me presents. It leads to very good sex."

"But I don't want that. Well, I do, but I can wait. I just want to be with Buffy," Spike explained.

"Then I still suggest flowers. Expensive, pretty flowers. I know a very nice shop where Xander bought my corsage for the prom."

"Okay, flowers. Got it." Spike nodded firmly, mentally tallying his cash. Sounds like some petty theft would be the order of the day. No, wait, Buffy wouldn't like that. Maybe he should check out the poker game down by Willy's.

Bloody hell. He was already making decisions based on what Buffy would like. And Spike knew, just knew he would stick to them. He'd always been like that. Love's bitch, now and forever.

"Of course, if the flowers don't work out," Anya continued talked, "I'm told that poetry can be very cute, even if it isn't very good."

"Poetry? No way, that's for poofters," Spike snorted. "I'd never do that." Actually, the truth is he would never show Buffy the lines already written hiding at the bottom of the sarcophagus. That would ruin what little shreds he had left of his Big Bad rep.

Anya didn't even notice his frantic cover-up. She was still talking. "Xander told me that Buffy dated a poet once if that's any help. Though I don't see why she would date a poet. Personally, I've always found them to be all talk and no action. There was this one poet I met a couple centuries ago who - "

Spike enjoyed Anya's company. Really, he did. But when she started to ramble like this, it was best to end the conversation.

"That's fascinating, Anya. But now I think I'll try to take your advice and get some flowers. I'll be sure to check out that florist shop you mentioned." Spike hurried to the ladder to the sewers. "Thanks for the advice."

Anya watched him leave, made a harrumphing noise. "Men!" Then she noticed the TV was still on. "Ooh, that's one of the vengeance shows!" Anya quickly sat down to watch the trashy talk show. In her day, those people had been some of her best customers.

***

The shop bell rang, it's distinctive tinkle echoing about the silent florist shop. Ashley looked up from her spot behind the counter. It had been a relatively slow day so far. Only one sale, to a woman who wanted some potted plants for her window sill. Barring that, it had just been Ashley and the flowers today.

She watched the new potential customer avidly. He definitely didn't look like the average patron of Francesca's Flowers. In fact, he looked a bit like the kind who made fun of florists in general and enjoyed crushing fields of daisies. Combat boots, long black leather coat, and seriously bleached hair. Ashley was surprised that she didn't see any piercings. He looked like the sort who would have a few. Not that it would have detracted from his serious hotness.

The Hot Punk in a Florist Shop was randomly wandering the aisles, a somewhat bemused expression on his face. He was obviously out of his depth. Ashley wondered what had driven him to the shop - he didn't strike her as the sort who liked to be confused. After watching him roam around the shop, searching for something he didn't know how to find, she took pity on him and went over to help.

"May I help you?"

Hottie jerked backward from the display of figurines he was examining. One fell. He quickly caught it. As he set it back down, he said, "Uh, yeah. You could."

Ashley carefully rearranged the figurine so it matched the rest of the display. "What are you looking for?"

"Flowers," he said confidently.

"For whom?" Ashley prompted. "We have quite a selection."

His confidence seemed to falter. "Well, it's for my, uh, my," he said, distractedly fingering the ring on his left hand.

"Your wife?" Ashley guessed. Dang, he was taken. All the good ones were.

"Close enough. Do you have any suggestions? All my friend told me was something expensive." He looked around the store, "I'm not sure what fits the bill."

He was married? Ashley wondered how he had gotten that far without even basic flower knowledge. His wife was probably willing to overlook a few flaws for a guy that cute. "Do you have any idea what kind of flowers she likes?"

"No."

Ashley wasn't surprised. If he had, he would have come in, bought them, then left in all of five minutes. Guys come in to buy and leave; they rarely shop. "Well, then I'd suggest a mixed bouquet. Do you know what colors she likes?"

"No." He seemed to think a bit more, then added, "Just not anything... blood-like."

Ashley stepped away from the case of deep red roses. Now that was a bizarre turn of phrase. Instead, she wandered through the various cases, choosing bright, cheery blossoms that blended together well.

"This should do very nicely. It has a mixture of roses, orchids, daisies, and a few others. It's a bit costly, but I can assure you all of them are fresh."

"Whatever." The man took it, holding the bouquet awkwardly. Reaching into his pocket, he asked, "How much?"

Ashley named the price. "I'm sure your wife will like it very much." As she took his money, she added with a wink, "Maybe enough to get you off the couch."

"Hope so," he muttered on the way out, "but, I'd be happy if I got as far as the couch."

Ashley watched him go, a peroxided punk carrying a bouquet of flowers. Not a sight you saw every day. She leaned back with a sigh. There went the only highlight in her day.

Outside the shop, Spike was debating on the next step. Now that he had the flowers, he wasn't sure exactly what to do with them. Deciding that the direct course was the best, he set off to deliver them to her dorm. At least that'd give him an excuse to see her.

***

After charming his way into the building, (he hoped that girl never met a vamp, she'd be dead before the vamp crossed the threshold), Spike stood awkwardly in front of Buffy's dorm room, bouquet clenched tightly in his fist. With his other hand, he waved between knocking and dropping the flowers and making a run for it.

How do humans do this, this dating? With Dru, all he had to do was kill a few people, get a doll or two, and she was all over him. None of this door-knocking and bell-ringing and date-going. That, that was for humans.

Which Buffy was. Spike knocked, three quick raps.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Inside, Buffy looked up from her incomprehensible psych book, eager for any excuse to forget the thing. She jumped up and answered the door.

"Spike? What are you doing here?"

Spike affected a shocked expression. "What, a husband can't visit?"

Hearing this, two girls walking down the hall gave Buffy strange looks and started to giggle. Buffy reached out and pulled Spike into her room, causing the girls to giggle even more.

"Buffy, I'm shocked. I didn't know you ready to start up our conjugal relations."

Buffy frowned a second. Huh? Then she figured it out. "Spike!"

"Sorry, luv, couldn't resist."

"Then resist better next time." Buffy crossed the room to sit down on her bed. "What are you really doing here?"

"Seeing you."

"And?"

"That's as far as my plan went, actually."

"If this is how your evil plots worked, I'm not surprised I always kicked your butt."

"Hey," Spike pointed out, "I've seen your Scooby Gang at work, you know. The fact that they ever foiled a single evil scheme shows that angels do watch over fools."

"And to that I say my own, Hey!" Buffy leaped off her bed. "My friends are not," she finally noticed the bouquet in his hand, "flowers?"

"Huh? What's that got to do with - " Spike realized where Buffy was pointing. "Oh, yeah."

"Did you get me flowers?" Buffy asked, a more than slightly incredulous tone in her voice.

"Uh, should I have?" Spike awkwardly hid the bouquet behind him.

Buffy watched him, amused. None of her other boyfriends had gotten her flowers. Well, Angel in his psycho phase had dropped off a rose or two, but that didn't count. She found it...cute. Especially with the pretty bouquet.

"Yes," she answered solemnly, "you should have."

"Well then," Spike said, clearly relieved, "I think these are for you."

Buffy reached out and snatched them away.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he remarked as she inhaled their scent.

Buffy ignored him and proceeded to enjoy the lovely bouquet. Spike was pleased to see that he had done this part right, at least. That flower girl had known what she was doing.

"Wow, this is really sweet of you." Buffy peered over the tops of the flowers and demanded, "Whose idea was this?"

"Mine?" Spike hazarded.

Buffy waited.

"Anya's," he finally admitted, "with some help from the shop girl."

"What were you doing talking to Anya about flowers?" Buffy wanted to know.

"She wants to help yours truly get the girl," he told her. "You aren't jealous about me chatting her up, are you?"

"Me? Pfft, of course not," she responded quickly, ignoring the brief surge of envy at the thought of another girl talking to HER - not husband/boyfriend/significant other. Um, exactly what was Spike to her?

"Spike, what are we?"

"Well, I'm a devastatingly handsome creature of the night who's taken a fancy to you, the more often that not obnoxious Slayer."

Buffy frowned. "A) That's not what I was asking. B) If anyone's the obnoxious one here, it's you, 'devastatingly handsome creature of the night'." Buffy marked the last phrase with air quotes.

"What's with the air quotes?"

"Because it shows how totally wrong that phrase is? Except for the creature of the night part."

"So you don't think I'm devastatingly handsome?" he mock pouted.

"Only in your dreams, Spike. The best you can hope for is fairly good looking," Buffy lied. There was no way she was going to tell him was beyond devastatingly handsome, especially when he did that thing with his eyes...Okay Buffy, drooling ruins the effect.

"I'm hurt, Slayer, I really am," Spike teased. He had caught that look in her eyes, yes he had. He hid a smirk.

"And I feel so sorry, Spikey. I do. But what I really want to know," Buffy tried to bring the conversation back to her original question, "what are we to each other? Beyond what the state of California says."

There went his first answer. "Former mortal enemies bordering on dating?" he hazarded. "What do you think we are?"

"More of the same."

"You do?" She did?

"Spike, we went on a date last night. You brought me flowers today. I think we've officially moved beyond the mortal enemies stage of the relationship. Of course, that ends the moment you try to kill me and my friends again, which is when I stake you," she explained.

Made sense. Spike couldn't argue with that logic - Slayer had to do what a Slayer had to do. "So where do we go from here, then?"

Buffy stared at the bouquet in her hands. She stroked the petals of one beautiful butter yellow rose. That had been so sweet of Spike, even if he had required prompting. Where did they go from here? She set the bouquet down on her bed. What was it she had told Willow to do that first day in Sunnydale? Seize the day? Buffy turned to face Spike. He was watching her, an expectant look on his face. Her insides melted a little, remembering times when his eyes had looked at her like that, only a with a lot more ice fire. Yup, it had been seize the day. Because tomorrow you may die. And for Slayers that was truer than for anybody else. Didn't she have the right to as much happiness as she could grab?

Spike wondered what was going on in Buffy's head. In all the time he had known her, as both enemy and ally, she had had moods that could rival Drusilla. He knew he wasn't always the most emotionally stable person in the world, too, but Buffy could go from hot to cold in two seconds flat. The question was, which way was she running right now?

He got his answer when Buffy kissed. The first kiss she had initiated, no less. Spike returned it in full force.

"Mmm, what are you doing, love?" he broke away a moment

"Seizing the day," she responded before kissing him again.

"I like this plan," he murmured before joining her.

Arms entwined and pulled bodies closer

***

Willow hurried to Buffy's room. Faith was out of the coma and on the streets; Buffy had to be informed. She yanked the door open.

Then saw Buffy making out with Spike. They were groping and kissing and slowly making their way to the bed -

Willow quickly shut the door. Faith wasn't going anywhere. She could wait. Willow slowly turned around, slipping a rubber band about the knob before heading over to Tara's for the night.

Chapter Thirteen

This was a nice dream, Buffy thought. Someone was holding her in his arms, peppering light kisses on her hair while tracing little patterns on her back. It tickled a little. Buffy giggled and pushed a little at the tickling hand before trying to burrow herself deeper into the sheets. Though the mattress she was lying on seemed harder than she remembered.

She decided to ignore that and try to go back to sleep. She didn't want this comfy dream to end.

Then the mattress started rumbling.

"You awake, love?"

Buffy opened her eyes. And realized her lovely dream wasn't actually a dream. She was snuggled up against Spike, who had one hand on her back and the other stroking her hair. Her own hands were resting comfortably on his chest. The bedcovers were twisted and tangled every which way, the bouquet of flowers lay wilted on the floor, and somehow some roses from the bouquet were mixed up with the sheets. Oh, and neither of them was wearing, well, anything.

Last night's activities came crashing back to her. Last night's very, very pleasurable activities. What had she been thinking? Oh yeah, seize the moment. Seize the Spike (ooh, that had been fun). Buffy's eyes glazed over, her mind in a happy place. Then moral voice kicked in. Stop it, Buffy! Seizing the moment is bad! Look what happened the last two times you seized the moment. Hey, wait a second. It's the morning after and the guy's still here!

And apparently interested in seizing the moment some more, Buffy thought as Spike's hands started to wander. Buffy pushed them away as she tried to figure out if she had been Good Decision-Maker Buffy or Bad Decision-Maker Buffy. The pros were telling her to be happy she had a lover; the cons were saying that she shouldn't have rushed things.

Spike felt her withdrawal and stopped his ministrations, a slight frown crossing his face. "What is it?"

Buffy shifted and faced him, pulling up a sheet to cover herself. "It's nothing."

Spike waited, watching her intently.

"It's just." Buffy trailed off, as she sought to explain.

"Don't say this isn't what you wanted. I'd like to point out, love, that you were the one who kissed me first."

"I know, Spike. I was there, too, remember? I'm just not sure if this was a good idea. I mean, we've just started dating, and now this and I don't think we should have - "

Spike gave her a miffed look.

"Except for that," Buffy reassured. "That was good." Then she panicked, past experiences coming up to haunt her. "It was good, right?"

Sensing an opening, he leaned forward, saying, "It was wonderful," before trying to kiss her.

Buffy scooted away and Spike fell face-first into the covers. "Spike! You're missing the point!"

Lifting himself up, he muttered, "I don't think you've gotten to it yet."

"The point is that no matter how fun or, or wonderful all of this," Buffy made vague waving gestures to encompass them and the bed, "was, we shouldn't have."

"You started it," Spike pointed out, sounding more than a little petulant.

"Well the thing is I shouldn't have! I should have known better." Buffy got up and started pacing, entering full rant mode. "I mean, what if Willow had come in? It's not like I have a single, you know. And according to the dorm rules, I'm not even supposed to have a guy in my room after two. And the RA's already leery at me after the whole demon-roomie incident. And - Would you look at me while I'm talking?!"

Spike had been looking at her, just not in the right direction. He'd opted to enjoy the view of a pacing Buffy. Deciding that mentioning that would be a bad idea, instead he said, "First of all, even if Red had, she's got the sense to turn around and go straight to her fellow witch's place, and leave us be. Second, you and I both know that those dorm rules are never enforced. And third - what demon-roomie?"

"Long story." Buffy retreated to her closet and began to hastily yank on various layers. "But do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I do." Spike swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, pulling his discarded pants on before facing her. "I see you're the one missing the point here. What did you say last night? Seize the moment? Love, when you go off and carpe diem like that, you're not supposed to obsess about it afterwards! That's the beauty about being impulsive, that you don't obsess about the consequences. That all you focus on is the now. On what you feel and what you want. And last night," he strutted a little, "you wanted me. So deal with that and stop retreating."

Buffy glared at him. "Last night, I was rationalizing stupid hormoney thoughts brought on by annoying vampires who gave me flowers!"

"That's one I haven't heard before, 'Beware vampires bearing gifts'. C'mon, just admit that you want me. Because I know I want you. Last night, and that time in the motel room, shows just how good it can be if you give in to it."

"Haven't you been listening? It doesn't matter if we're compatible or whatever, what matters is that I've just had sex with a guy who I know practically nothing about!"

"That's not true," he protested.

"Spike, all I know about you is this: your name is William Montgomery, your ex-girlfriend was Drusilla, you've killed two Slayers, and that you think the world is worth saving because of Happy Meals with legs. I know nothing personal about you - what shows you like, how old you are, where you were born, or anything at all, really."

"You have to know more than that. We've known each other for three years."

"And the first time we met you told me you were going to kill me!"

"So? It's not like I can at the moment."

Buffy stomped her foot. "You can be so obtuse at times!"

"Then explain it to me," he snapped back.

"I wanted to take my time and see if we had anything besides passion tying us together. I wanted a real relationship before we went and actually did anything. But then you showed up with the flowers and were so sweet and handsome and I knew nothing in my dreams could top the real deal and," she noticed Spike's chest puffing out, "stop looking so satisfied or I'll - "

"You'll what?" He leaned in and placed his mouth just a hair's breadth away from her ear. "You'll stake me?" Buffy closed her eyes, as his lips just barely tickled her skin. "Or maybe you'll let me stake you?"

Her eyes shot open as she moved away. "Yes to the first, no to the second. Do you ever think about anything else?"

"No. And I have no problem admitting to it, Slayer." Buffy noticed that it was the first time he'd called her Slayer since their conversation the night before. After she had started with the kiss, it had been nothing but Buffy (and goddess and sweetheart and love). Until now. "I'm a creature of passion. What I want, I try to get, and I enjoy doing it. You, on the other hand, can't make up your mind. I hope you tell me when you do."

Spike reached out and pulled her up against him, hard.

"Just remember - a creature of passion has," he punctuated each word with a thrust against her, "A lot. More. Fun."

Spike let her slide down to the ground, noting with satisfaction her raised heartbeat and flushed cheeks. He then picked up his duster and shirt before turning to leave. "And another thing - I was born in London, was twenty-six when I was turned, have been a vampire for about 120 years and my favorite show is Passions. I like real football, as compared to the pathetic American version, and my favorite colors are black and red. The last two you should have figured out. Hope you enjoy the flowers, luv."

He left.

Buffy stood there a moment, confused. What was he trying to say? What had just happened? She distractedly picked up the wilted bouquet and smoothed the ribbon holding it together. Stroking the still soft petals, she tried to figure out the answer to the question he had asked.

What did she want?

Looking at the clock, Buffy realized the question would have to be pondered while trying to take notes in Modern European History.

***

Buffy still hadn't figured out the answers by the time she walked out of the dark lecture hall into the bright sunlight, making her way back to her dorm. Lost in the mystery that was her relationship with Spike, she didn't hear Riley come up to her until he was practically shouting in her ear.

"Hey, Buffy, how're you doing? You're not still mad at me about the whole Lowell thing, are you?" he asked, anxiously. "It was just that I was so thrown by it all."

Buffy spent a moment wishing Riley would whisk himself away, preferably somewhere faraway, like Antarctica. But Joyce had succeeded in instilling a modicum of manners in her daughter (no matter how many times she had despaired otherwise) and so Buffy said, "Riley, I'm not mad at you about that. We were totally mojo'd up that night, and I really shouldn't have lied to you about Spike. Something was gonna happen. What you said, was, yeah, upsetting and pissed me off, but I get where you were coming from. So it's all forgiven, okay?" She continued walking.

Riley kept pace beside her. "That's, that's good. I didn't want us to end on that note, you know? It just felt wrong. Especially since we're both on the same side, when you get down to it."

Buffy nodded and kept moving, trying to figure out some graceful way to get rid of him. This was way, way too awkward. Hopefully Riley would take the hint and leave.

But this was Riley. He didn't and kept following her. "I wanted to talk to you about that. It doesn't make much sense not to talk to each other, since we're really the only liaisons for our organizations. We better talk, if only so we don't try to take on the same HST. No point in being taken out by friendly fire, huh?"

"That's true. I know I don't want to take out a camouflage-painted commando just because he gets in the way." Buffy noticed Riley's slightly wounded expression and reined her inner bitch in a little. No reason to hurt the poor guy's feelings. "Or vice-versa."

Riley smiled, pleased with her concession. His current orders were to reopen communication between him and the Slayer, then determine the best course of action according to her response. Seeking more data, he asked, in a polite, conversation making voice, "Out of curiosity, how are you and Spike doing?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. What a swell question for Riley to choose to ask. "I don't know. It's. complicated. We have our ups and downs." She added wryly, "I guess we're like most couples. If you take out the mortal enemy aspect."

Riley perked up, heartened by this discovery. They were having problems? That would make his assignment so much easier. Maybe Buffy would even realize what a mistake she's made and help him recapture Hostile 17! But that plan would have to wait for later. He would report to Walsh with what he had learned.

"This is my stop, Buffy. Hope to talk to you soon!"

"We'll see. 'Bye." Buffy watched him finally leave, relieved. She was impressed with how well Riley was handling himself, all things considered. But that didn't mean she wanted to talk to him.

***

From her vantage point behind a tree, Faith watched Buffy talk with some cute-looking football type. Not a bad one there, Buff, she thought, you could do worse. I'd do him. Of course, I've been lying on my back for the past eight months, and not in that fun kind of way.

Faith reached down and felt the faint scar where the knife had gone in. Since she had woken up from the coma, she'd found out all the ways B had ruined her life. The one person who ever gave a damn about her was gone, eight months of her life were missing, and B was chatting it up with some college boy like nothing had happened.

She gripped the strange device Richard had left her. She didn't know what it did, but he had wanted her to have it. And if it did something to Buffy, Faith would be happy to go for it.

Buffy was now alone now, just walking along. Faith could tell B was lost in her own world, not paying attention like a Slayer ought to. Even on a sunny day like this. Now's the time to teach B a lesson in how a Slayer should act. She waited until Buffy passed the tree before she made her move.

"Hey B, long time, no see."

Buffy jerked backwards, shocked by the face which greeted her. When had Faith gotten out of her coma? "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"You didn't hear the news? You didn't kill me as good as you thought. I'm all woke up, as good as new." Faith threw out her arms and stretched. "Man, it feels good. Only one thing is gonna make this better."

"Let me guess. You killing me?" Buffy shifted into full fight mode, dropping her books and stepping away, automatically balancing her weight in preparation.

"Actually, I was going for the complete ruination of your life, but killing you works for me too."

"I did not ruin your life. You did that on your own. All I did was try to clean up the mess you made."

"So it's my fault you stabbed me? My fault I've been in a coma for eight months? My fault you killed the only person who ever gave a damn about me? Wow, B, that's bad. Even for you. But I forgot. Miss Perfect Slayer can never do anything wrong, can she? She's always right, always the hero," Faith mocked, circling Buffy.

Buffy held her ground. "Can we skip the insulting banter and just fight already? You're boring me."

"Too bad. You know, I was planning on killing all your friends first before I got to you, but then I found this." Faith brandished her new toy. "I don't know what it does, but I'm hoping for the melting of your flesh off your bones. What do you think?"

"I think you should shut up and prepare to get your ass kicked."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

The two Slayers circled each other for a few moments, neither making a move. Then Faith finally rushed in and aimed a kick at Buffy's midsection. Buffy evaded the blow and tried for a punch of her own. They fought, sometimes striking, other times blocking. At first, Buffy had the upper hand. She was fitter and in condition, since she'd been up and about while Faith lay dormant. Buffy was able to get a few good blows in. But Faith was running on rage, her drug of choice. After she took a good hit to the face, Faith sent Buffy reeling backward with a one-two combination of her own. As Buffy tried to recover, Faith tackled her and sent the both of them falling to the ground. Seizing her opportunity, Faith clasped Buffy's hand and gripped tight, hoping whatever magic was held in the device would finish them once and for all. As a white-hot light enveloped them, Buffy managed to slam her fist against the back of Faith's head, knocking the other girl unconscious.

As the world faded to black, Faith thought, Damn, and I thought it would work.

***

Faith opened her eyes.

And realized several very important things. She was still outside lying on the path at U Sunnydale. The sun hadn't changed position, so she hadn't been out long. And most importantly - there was a body lying next to her, a black eye already forming. And the face surrounding that black eye was Faith's own.

With slightly trembling hands, Faith reached back and pulled her hair forward. It was blonde, and a little crinkly. She sat up slowly, running her hands along her body. The chest was smaller and covered in a tank Faith never would have chosen, and the legs encased in a pair of blue jeans were the wrong length.

Faith smiled like a cat that had eaten the canary. Her inheritance was better than she had thought it could be. No skins melting from bones for Buffy's body. No, this was even better. She now had Buffy's body.

She stood up and debated what to do about the unconscious Faith-shape lying there. Chances were B had taken up residence inside that old skull of hers. Should she snap the neck now or wait? Faith thought a moment, then smiled. She had an even better idea. Get B's beloved Scoobies help her track down and catch that horrible, nasty old Faith and put her away, where she belonged.

Faith gathered up the scattered books and smoothed down her brand-new hair before leaving to go see her Watcher like a good Slayer should, and tell him about that awful meeting with the rogue Slayer.

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