All demons across land and seas know the legend of the greatest of all vampire slayers. Many brag over a drink to have seen her, met her, or were bold enough to say that they had been one of the very few to have survived fighting her. But when pressed, any details of their tall tale were always sketchy at best. She was blonde, brunette, a red head. She was tall, short, plump, pear shaped. No matter the rumored particulars, all knew that she had closed the notorious Hellmouth. However, as with other details, no one could remember the exact location that this infamous event took place, but all knew that she was the only slayer that lived long enough to retire in the same unnamed town that once housed the portal to hell. As a glitch in the death of slayers, a second slayer was also present at the fight to seal the Hellmouth but didn’t survive the battle. A new slayer was called and attempted to live up to the formidable standards set by the slayer of all slayers.

Among the demons that vaguely remembered the legend, only one could recall the exact details about the most powerful slayers. He had also fought in the final battle to conquer the Hellmouth. This master vampire, infamous in his own right, had gone against his nature and his kind, worked along her side killing demons, loved her every breath, and when the Hellmouth was finally sealed, he respected the slayer’s wish, and as a consequence, he willingly lost her forever.

Spike stood in Sunnydale High School, bruised and with blood flowing from numerous injuries. His surroundings also displayed signs of a viscous battle. The First Evil had been defeated and the Hellmouth permanently closed. The white hats had won but paid a dreadfully high price for their victory over evil. Both human and demon, bodies lay everywhere, a grotesque testimony to an incredible conflict. Among the dead was Dawn, Xander, Willow, Anya, Faith, Giles, Wood, and the slayers-in-training. All were dead except three victors, who were now standing close to where the Hellmouth had just been sealed. Each numbly surveyed the aftermath with tears rolling down their faces. Spike knelt down, one arm hanging broken at his side and a deep gash in his forehead, and Angel sat against a wall holding his broken leg and one shoulder out of socket. Both vampires watched as Buffy, hair matted in blood, stood over her best friends, sister, and watcher, silently sobbing.

“You’ve won. You’ve saved the world - again.” All three looked over to where the demon, Whistler, had suddenly appeared.

“Nice of you to join us, mate. Who the bloody hell are you?” The blonde vampire spat.

“Whistler,” Angel snarled. “You bastard. You could have come sooner and helped instead of standing back to congratulate anyone that survived.”

The demon ignored the vampires’ hostility and slowly walked over to where the devastated slayer stood. Buffy never looked up from Willow and Xander bodies, even when he stood a foot away. “I’m not here to congratulate. The Powers That Be sent me here to reward.”

Spike stood up, anger radiating off his body. “I think I speak for us all when I say FUCK OFF!”

“Normally I would have a witty comeback,” Whistler flippantly answered, “but I just don’t think that would be appreciated right now.”

Angel growled, “Spike’s right. Fuck off.”

So that he could see all three, Whistler turned away from Buffy. “As I said, I am here on their behalf to reward you three.” He held up his hand before Spike could interrupt again. “They want to grant each of you a wish.”

“What? Now you’re a bloody genie?”

“Of sorts.” Whistler nodded his head, ready to conduct business. “Angel, I think I already know what you want.”

Leaving no doubt, Angel’s reply was quick and firm. “Shanshu.”

“They thought so, but they want to leave you the vampiric strength and healing so you can still fight the good fight. If that is ok with you.” Whistler watched Angel nod in agreement before he continued. “I’m sending you home where you will feel like you are waking up.” Giving him a half smile. “Tomorrow morning, the fang gang will remember a grand battle from the night before, where you shanshu at the end.” Whistler raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, Angel was gone. Moving on, he turned. “Spike?”

The blonde vampire shook his head before motioning toward Buffy. “Let the lady go next.”

Tilting his head slightly to acknowledge Spike’s request, Whistler turned and studied Buffy, who had so far ignored his abrupt appearance completely. “They think they already know what you want also, Slayer, since you have wanted and strived for it over the past seven years. All I need is your confirmation.”

Never taking her gaze from the carnage, Buffy nodded her head once. He raised his hand, but then paused. “The Powers That Be congratulate you, Slayer. You were the best, which the slayers that follow can only strive to emulate your example. You, too, will wake up tomorrow morning, safe in your bed and will remember none of this.” With a sluggish motion, as if regretting what he was to do, he raised his hand. But before he completed him motion, Buffy finally looked up and over at Spike. The last things she saw, before she too was gone, were anguished, blue eyes.

The vampire wiped tears from his face again before asking the demon in a horse voice, “What did she wish for?”

Ignoring Spike’s question, Whistler turned his attention to him. “You are different than the other two. The Powers That Be don’t know what you will choose.”

Battered and in pain, mentally and physically, Spike took a shaky step towards the cocky, little man. “What did she ask for?”

Tilting his head as if assessing the vampire, Whistler again ignored his question. “I would have bet that you would wish for the slayer to love you or something like that, but they,” he pointed towards the sky, “thought you wouldn’t want her that way. You would only be happy if she loved you of her own free will.”

“No. I’ve had her as the result of a spell before. I want her and always will, but not with magic.” Spike took another step, trying to use the last of his energy in an effort to appear somewhat menacing. “What. Was. Her. Wish?”

“Ok. What could it hurt, but I would have thought you could guess. After all, you did understand her better than anyone else.” Whistler shrugged. “The slayer has always wanted to be a normal girl with a normal life, and that’s what they gave her.” He started to pace around, casually surveying the destruction. “Oh, the world will still be the same. Still demons, still vampires, still a slayer that closed the Hellmouth. Nothing will change except her life, and those that know her. Their memories and therefore their lives will be as if Buffy was never called to be the Chosen One.”

Trying to blink back the tears, Spike whispered, “And demons? Me?”

Stopping his circuit around the area, Whistler sympathetically looked at the vampire. “No humans but demons will still know. In a way, they will have faint memories but no details. The Powers That Be don’t want to completely erase her memory or her impressive accomplishments. That would almost be sacrilegious to her spectacular feats. For instance, Angel will just remember her as a story told to him by someone else, told to that person by someone else. Well, you get the point. Same for you. As with any other demon, you will know about this infamous slayer, have heard of her but never met her in person.”

The demon watched the vampire tightly close his eyes. When a single tear squeezed its way out from between his lids and down his face, Spike impatiently wiped it away before looking back at Whistler. “I want to remember.”

Whistler was stumped. “But you won’t.”

“You said I could choose my reward, and that’s my wish. Tell whoever’s up there that I want to remember her. Not forget one minute or one, bloody detail.”

“But you can’t…” Suddenly stopping, Whistler looked up at the sky, apparently listening to a voice only he could hear. When he looked back at Spike, his face showed his surprise. “They agree. They will leave your memories intact, but there is a catch. To respect Buffy’s wish, and I am guessing that you would want to do that, you can’t tell anyone what only you will remember. If you do spill to her or anyone else, everything for her will revert to as it was.”

Spike nodded, showing that he understood and agreed to the terms, and then watched the representative of the Powers That Be raise his hand one last time before he too disappeared. The next morning, Spike woke up in a motel several miles outside of Sunnydale with his car parked in front of his room, but the wanker demon was true to his word. Spike had all his memories of Sunnydale, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the feelings of losing her for the second time. He spent the night half-heartedly trying to decide where to go, and when night fell, still undecided on a destination; he drove off, keeping Sunnydale and Buffy at his back.

*****

Killing time, Beth wandered down the upper level of one of Sacramento’s mall. The beautiful blonde stopped to look in a shoe store’s window, chuckled at a frumpy clothing store and then wander past a busy music store. Something bright caught her eye which made her curious enough that she stepped back a couple of paces to see into the music store’s window again.

Looking over the various aisles of CD’s, Beth found what caught her eye originally. Mega bright hair. Actually, it was a guy with hair that was slightly mussed and so close to white that it appeared almost colorless. Stepping closer to the window, she studied him. The stranger, dressed in black from head to toe, was holding a CD, reading the back before putting it back to pick up another. Just looking at him through the window made the butterflies in her stomach start to do the cha cha.

Without consciously making the decision to enter the store or remembering how she got there, Buffy found herself standing next to the man with the bleached hair and black leather duster. He was gorgeous even in profile. “Uh…excuse me.” She could see the stranger freeze, tensing at the sound of her voice. Her quandary was that he didn’t seem to be a stranger to her. “Er…do I know you?”

Buffy waited for him to react, either speaking or some subtle sign that he was going to just flat out ignore her and her forwardness. Judging from the fascinating side view of this guy, she wasn’t the first girl to use a line to meet him. ‘Hi! I’m Bambi. Have we met?’ Chastising herself that she shouldn’t care, Buffy quickly glanced down at his left hand hanging at his side to make sure he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. She let out the breath she shouldn’t be holding. Those butterflies needed to breathe, too, but thank god, no band on his third finger. She checked both to make sure.

When she glanced back up, she found herself staring into his face now turned to her. Taken aback, Buffy discovered that his striking profile didn’t compare to his gorgeous face. Chiseled cheekbones, an intriguingly, scared eyebrow, and enticing lips. However, more than any of his features, she was drawn into the depths of his eyes. Stunning, intense, blue eyes. She wondered how she could ever forget those eyes if she had seen them before, and as she did gazed into them, she felt her memories stir with a faint recognition.

Finally thawing her frozen voice, she sputtered out a clumsy explanation before she could get lost in his eyes again. “I know that line sounded cheesy, but you really look kinda déjà vu to me. I’m not trying to be all stalkish or anything, but you looked so familiar that I just had to come in and ask.”

When the voice first spoke next to his left shoulder, trying to get his attention, Spike thought that he was dreaming of the voice that visited him every time he slept. But when the voice continued, he froze, recognizing the pick up line but telling himself that it wasn’t the slayer asking, just some pathetic girls trolling the mall.

Creeped out enough to not care what she looked like, he turned his head to give her the brush off. However, when Spike looked into the girl’s guileless, hazel eyes, his brain stalled out causing him to almost miss her explanation. Son of a bloody bitch but the slayer was standing in front of him babbling about déjà vu. He was so freaked that he started to laugh in her face but caught himself.

Drinking in her beloved face so close to him, he saw the slayer with no hardness or sadness in her eyes and an obvious zest for living. How he wanted to lean down and kiss those lips, but he knew he couldn’t go against her wish. But he knew that just meeting her face to face, this new, unspoiled version of Buffy, could put her new world in jeopardy.

“No, luv, you wouldn’t know me.” He forced himself to turn away and look back at the CD in his hand.

Buffy wasn’t sure what to make of him. At first, looking at her, his eyes widened in surprise but then shifted into sorrow. Maybe, she optimistically thought, it was regret in not recognizing her. “Are you sure? You look so familiar. It’s been a long time since I have been in Sacramento, but we could have met before.”

He didn’t dare look back at her, willing himself to stay firm. “No, pet, you don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, sorry to bug you then.” She turned to walk away. “I’ll just be taking my mortification and leaving…” But her feet felt like led. Before her embarrassment swept her away out of the store, she whirled back around and was surprised to catch the man, with shoulders now slumped, rubbing his temples and forehead as if trying to rid himself of an agonizing headache. Unexpectedly concerned, Buffy took a step towards him. “I…uh…I’m not from here and need to kill some time. Therefore, I’ve been wandering around this mall, and I saw this café-like shop and I am thirsty and I…look, do you want to come get a cuppa with me?” Buffy finished and held her breath, waiting to hear his answer to her fumbling invitation.

Livid, Spike fought down a nearly overwhelming urge to slam the CD against the nearest wall. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Four hundred seventy-six days before, Whistler had told him…no, stressed to him that it shouldn’t and couldn’t happen. But on the other hand, the Powers That Be should have known that he and his slayer, however accidentally, individually or together, would defy the rules of the cosmic game - again. Why should he be surprised?

Spike told himself to not even glance at her. Stay away from temptation. No, no, you can’t give in. No, no, no. But then he looked at her hopeful, upturned face and heard himself answer, “Yes.” Bloody hell. Now he was the one holding his breath, waiting for lightening to strike him down. But the destructive zap of electricity didn’t come. Maybe a couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt cosmic history, he rationalized, as he watched a smile light up her face.

*****

At a shopping mall, in a poor excuse for a Starbucks, Spike sat at a small, metal table, looking at the slayer, who didn’t remember ever being a slayer. The same slayer, who didn’t remember that he had loved her, didn’t know that he had never stopped loving her, and wouldn’t know.

The silence made Buffy even more nervous than she already was. Other than ordering his drink, the hottie sitting across from her hadn’t spoken since agreeing to go with her to the coffee shop. “Well, I’m from Sunnydale, and I’m in town visiting my dad.” The stranger just sat staring at her, leaving her struggling for something else she could say to start up a conversation. “I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Elizabeth Summers, but I go by Beth. What should I call you besides quiet?” She was relieved when, her gentle tease was rewarded by a half-smile which only enhanced his drool-worthy, good looks.

“Sp...” The vampire caught himself before giving the name that could possibly trigger one of the memories she had chosen to forget. Other than vaguely recognizing him, he didn’t know if he could accidentally revive the past for her by a word or action from him, but he wouldn’t take any chances. The PTB had even changed her name from Buffy to Beth. “You can call me William, and maybe I’ll answer.” Well, it was at least the truth, and the slayer had only called him that once. Regardless, he wanted to stay as close to the truth as possible.

Both gave half smiles acknowledging their appreciation. “Ok, I can call you William, and I’m Beth. Obstacle one - Find out each other’s names. Check. The next obstacle is to start some kind of conversation. I’m going to go out on a very narrow limb here, but I don’t think you have any ideas, do you?”

Content to just look at her, Spike shook his head signally, “no,” while never taking his blue eyes off her face.

“So, William, are you a native to Sacramento?”

Now that got Spike’s attention, startling him back to her question. Then he chuckled, “No, pet, I most certainly am not from around this area.”

Embarrassed, Buffy bit her lower lip for a moment. “British accent ergo British. Ergo not from California. Why don’t we go back to safer topics, like the weather, before I dig my pit of ignorance any deeper?” Buffy plastered a Hollywood smile on her face and went for the absurd to chip away at his layer of ice. “Let’s guess what type of underwear the people passing by are wearing. I’ll start. Those high school girls are definitely wearing thongs. They’re hoping that tonight that they may get lucky and someone will see them.” She looked back at him who had raised his eyebrow in interest. Time to move on from other girls. “Oh, that older guy in the checkered shirt, he’s a boxer man. Probably ironed.” His laugh made her bolder. “Look at that goth chick. She’s wearing hot pink underwear to match her hair, but I bet her panties are probably held together by safety pins. Ouch. Probably why she is frowning.”

William surprised her when he made his own speculation. “Look at Mr. Muscles to your right. The wanker is compensating for a small pecker. He’s wearing lace knickers with a garter belt and stockings.” After her gasp, he joined her laughing as they watched the rear view of the alleged cross dresser.

After blue hairs, snooty upper crust, and soccer moms, the silliness paid off. ‘Laughter obtained. Ice successfully broken,’ Beth thought as she listened to his melodic laugh.

“So what’s a hottie like you do for a living? Model or something?” Her face was an instant, bright red. ‘Oh my god. I can’t believe the word ‘hottie’ just came out of my mouth, not to mention asking him if he is a model.’ She hoped that pit of ignorance would go ahead and swallow her whole.

However, Spike wasn’t so much concerned about what she had said, but instead, he was trying to decide how to reply as to his profession. It couldn’t hurt to tell what he had been doing for the past year, Spike thought, especially since it wasn’t related to demons. After all, he had begun his new profession, the only profession he ever had, after the last battle in Sunnydale. “No, no modeling. I’m a skipper tracer.” He hadn’t expected her to know what that profession entailed, but her look of confusion was adorable. “A skip finder is called if someone doesn’t pay up on their bond. See, when people are thrown in jail but can’t afford the bail to get them out, the family or a friend goes to a bondsman, who loans the money to make the bail. Hence, bondsmen are like mosquitoes. They fly around the people that are easy prey, and then suck them dry by the percentage of the loan as payment. When the bail is made, the indicted man can leave jail until trial. If the perp doesn’t show, the skip tracer is called to hunt him down and drag his or her arse back to jail.”

Beth hated it, but she had to interrupt him. “Damn! This timing is soo way bad because I really didn’t want our conversation to end so quickly, but I have to meet my father in that Italian restaurant across the street, Antonio’s, right about, oh, five minutes ago. A side dish of ass chewing is probably waiting for me now, and I just want enough of my ass left to sit on when I drive back to Sunnydale tomorrow.” Looking at her watch one more time with obvious regret but continuing to freak, Buffy started to pick up her jacket, purse and grabbed her coffee for the road. “I know I am going to sound like I am being forward again because…I guess I really am. When I visit Dad again soon, and I stress soon, would you like to meet again maybe for dinner or something more than coffee?” Adding to herself, ‘And entailing more time.’

Balls, the slayer still had one weapon after all. When Beth gave him her puppy dog eyes, Spike wanted to agree to anything she asked.

When he didn’t immediately answer, she assumed he was trying to find a polite way to refuse, so she doubled her effort. Shrugging a shoulder, she gave him her best smile, leaving no room for doubt that it was only meant for him.

With more fortitude than he thought he possessed, Spike pulled himself together. “I am sorry, luv. It wouldn’t be good for us to see each other again, especially for you. You’ll never know just how sorry I am because I have to tell you no, but I’m unfortunately not someone you need to spend time with.”

Heedless of his words, Buffy knew that with a little work, she could turn his “no” into a “yes,” but for now she could tell he was firm in his answer. Not to mention, she had to go and meet her father. Instead she decided to give into her temptation since she first sat down at the table with him, which was to touch this striking man with the sad eyes in a small effort to comfort whatever made him so gloomy. She lay her hand on his leather clad arm, “Thanks, William, for keeping me company. And no, I won’t tell you what kind of underwear I am wear, so no speculating on me.” She gave him a wink, and tenacious to a fault, she hurried away already planning how she would find a way to see him again.

Spike stayed at the table to finish his drink and to think about slayers. Spike kept track of slayers out of habit. The one after Buffy and Faith only lasted 4 months. The current one was now in the Middle East with her watcher, since the demons were drawn to the turmoil in that region of the world. However, his thoughts always returned to his slayer, Buffy. His last sight of her at the Hellmouth was burned onto his soul, the soul he had gotten for her. It wasn’t the blood and injuries that stood out in that last moment they shared before Whistler made her disappear; it was the expression on her face, the weariness and the profound anguish. But now Spike sat at a little table in a coffee shop located in a shopping mall, staring down at where Buffy, now Beth, had touched his duster’s sleeve and stored away precious images along with the other memories of his slayer.

A phone rang unanswered on the top floor of a well maintained building in the southern outskirts of Sacramento, California. The three story, turn of the century structure was constructed of deep-red bricks, which encased large windows. On the east side a few decorative stained-glass panels lit up in the morning glow of the sun.

The bottom floor housed a mortuary that had been operating there since the building was originally constructed. The mortician, who was also the owner of the building, resided with his family on the second floor. And for the past year, Spike called the top floor home. He rented the loft for an excellent rate, but of course, who else but a vampire would want to live above a mortuary. The vampire’s living arrangement was especially convenient in that his landlord was half demon and happy to provide his tenant blood drained from his deceased customers, which would otherwise be disposed of. As a result, Spike was pleased to no longer drink pig’s blood or deal with curious butchers.

In the loft, Spike’s current décor had a more modern feel than his crypt had back in Sunnydale, before it was blown up by an impotent, intruding GI. Leaving the nineteenth century of his birth behind, the vampire joined the twenty-first century with clean lines and curves, leather furniture, and a kitchen of stainless steel and black granite, equipped with all the newest appliances. The colors were predominately black, of course, with accents of rich blues and greens. His floor still had the loft’s original wood throughout, and the few plain accent rugs were kept to a minimal. He had decided against replacing his oriental rugs because they would only remind him of Buffy, such as lying under them with her after one of their heated moments together. And since that only caused him pain, any such objects were banned from his current residence. He could live and even savor his memories of her, but direct reminders made his memories feel more like open wounds again. If he wanted to see outside during the day, his windows had roll-up shades that were heavily tinted, but still translucent. To block out all light, if preferred, heavy black drapes with blue and green stripes hung from the ceiling to floor.

Overall, Spike was pleased with the updated flat. Happy, that is, with all except the sodding cell phone, which was currently sitting in its charger in the living room. It’s persistent ringing insisted on waking him up.

Opening one eye to glance at his clock beside the bed, the vampire growled when he saw that it was only eleven in the morning. The job he had been on the night before had taken until five A.M, and he hadn’t made it to bed until seven-thirty, leaving only three and a half hours of sleep. Well aware that Spike only worked at night and not questioning why due to his impressive results, all the bail bondsmen that used his services knew the unwritten law to not call before three in the afternoon. In fact, he had violently reinforced that rule on more than one occasion when he had first entered the profession, helping to spread the word through the grapevine to others in the business. But eleven o’clock in the AM? He didn’t have a clue who wanted the impending pounding, but he really didn’t care. So he left the caller to be handled by his voice mail. The pillock could leave a message and then maybe later, if he was in a better mood, he would ring them back.

When the phone stopped its annoying racket, Spike rolled over onto his side and tried to go back to sleep.

No such bleedin’ luck. On the first ring, Spike surged out of bed. “The bugger must have nuts the size of billiard balls, but I’m about to cut the bloody things off with a dull, cerated blade.” Jerking the phone out of its cradle, the vampire growled as he hit the button to answer the call. “WHAT?”

“Uh…hi?…I’m looking for William, and I was given this number.”

“Who?” At first he was taken back by the female voice on the other end of the line, and the sleepy vampire was stumped. She certainly didn’t sound like a bail bondsman, and who the hell was she looking for? But then that “Oh, shit” feeling started churning in his stomach.

“His name is William.” The voice on the phone now sounded more confident. “I don’t know his last name, but he has bleached hair, these really blue eyes, and a British accent. Maybe you know him?”

When he identified with certainty the voice on the other end of the line, Spike felt his anger at being woken up deflate as the “Oh, shit,” turned into a “Bloody Hell”. ‘What do you do now, you sodding ninny?’ He wondered as he began to pace. Luckily he hadn’t said enough for her to catch his accent.

“Hello?…Are you still there?”

“Yes.” Cringing, Spike hoped his attempt at an American accent fooled her.

On her end, Beth was becoming thoroughly confused. She paused to regroup but wasn’t giving up over this small obstacle. “Well, do you know him or not? He’s so not the type of guy you would forget.”

“Hold on.” Spike bought some time. Damn, even with the four words he had said so far, he did a lousy American accent and was even worse at lying, especially to the slayer. He had to find a way to climb out from between this current rock and a hard place, fast. Unfortunately, the only idea that came to mind was wrong, wrong, wrong. He was fit for the loony bin if he thought he could talk with Beth again and not make a slip revealing the true past. No bloody way. Totally fucking impossible. Absolutely, positively not.

‘Bloody hell,’ he thought, ‘I never could resist a challenge or Buffy. That Whistler bloke said I couldn’t tell anyone about the slayer, but he didn’t say I couldn’t talk to her. Just not remind her of her real past.’

“Beth? Sorry to make you wait. I just woke up, and I’m still a little foggy.”

“William? Oh, I’m so glad this was the right number.”

“How *did* you get my number?” Not that Beth could see the gesture, Spike raised an eyebrow, accentuating his question.

“Elementary, Watson. I know, cliché much? Anyway, you said you worked for bail bond guys, so I started calling the ones in the yellow pages until I found one that recognized your description.”

“Resourceful,” Spike commented while he wondered which bugger he needed to remind with a fist to the face that he liked his privacy. Well, Beth was an exception to his no early calls rule. “So what can I do for you, luv?”

“I called because…uh…See, I’m in town again and thought we could meet for dinner or something…Since you’re the only one I know in Sacramento besides my dad and he has a business dinner tonight and I have to eat and don’t know which restaurants are good or which are bad…Babbling now which is definitely of the bad. Shutting up now.”

Spike laughed. “So in an abridged version, you want to meet for dinner.”

“Let me say ‘huh?’ on the abridged, but yes on the meeting for dinner part.”

Unable to refuse her any longer, the vampire resigned himself to that a jump from that infamous frying pan into the fire. “Ok, pet, where are you staying?” Spike gave her directions to a Mexican restaurant located close to her father’s house where she was staying and told her that he would meet her at seven. As he ended the call, he was already kicking himself for not saying six-thirty or six even.

*****

For another good reason, Spike arrived at the Mexican restaurant early. Not wanting to accidentally break his agreement with Whistler, he needed to park the DeSoto a couple of blocks away, hiding it from Beth’s view. And shock of all shocks to anyone who knew him, he had left his duster at the loft, let his hair curl on the top instead of slicking all of it back. He dug out of his closet the few clothes he owned that were not black, which was a dark purple, button down shirt, blue instead of black jeans. However, he stuck to Doc Martens, just brown shoes instead of black boots. And just so that the vampire would still feel all big bad, he wore black briefs. Lame but he felt a little better.

Now Spike was standing outside the restaurant, pacing. Well after the appointed time, he started to convince himself that her phone call had been a new version of a wet dream, but then he recognized an older, green Jeep SUV approaching. He should have guessed Beth would be driving Joyce’s old car, he thought as he headed toward where she was parking.

Spike met her before she could make it out of the car, and Beth looked up with a warm smile when she saw him. “Hi and sorry. Ms. Late Girl is finally here. Since I haven’t been to Sacramento very many times, I’m still pathetic at finding my way around this large town.”

“No problem, pet. I’m in no hurry.” Looking fondly at the Joyce’s car one more time, Spike shut her door after she got out. “Like your car.”

“Thanks. I’ve always loved it, and when Mom bought a new car last December, she gave this one to me as sort of a oversized Christmas gift.”

Startled, Spike nearly stumbled into her. He had expected her reply to include a mention of Joyce, but not in that way. “What did you say?”

“What part?” She tried to think of what she had said to cause such a shocked look on his face. Surely she hadn’t put her foot in her mouth. At least not yet.

“The mum part.”

“You know, it’s that lady that was pushing when you were born. I promise everyone has one, and mine’s back in Sunnydale.” Instead of laughing, he looked even more stunned. “Hellooo. Zone much? That was a joke. Pretty good one, I thought.” Beth shrugged.

After a couple of false starts, sound finally came out of Spike’s mouth. “Your mum...I…uh…thought your mum was dead.”

As they entered the restaurant and waited to be shown to a table, Beth took a turn at being shocked. “Mom dead? Not if you count that she said a few hours ago that it scares her to death when I drive long distances. I think she was just being nice because I scare her even on short distances. But as soon as I hit town, I called on my phone to tell her I got here safe. She sounded alive then.”

“But you don’t have any brothers or sisters, right?” Spike almost didn’t want to hear the answer, since he had assumed that the mystical key sister would not be part of her new life.

“No to either. Just me to terrorize mom.” Beth brushed the mom issue aside when they followed the hostess to their table. After the waiter took their order, Beth peered hard at him across the table. “I know I’ve asked already but are you sure we haven’t met before? I feel like I should know or know things about you, and it’s funny, you make me also think of dancing. Now instead of Late Girl, I’ve moved on to Insane girl.”

At the mention of dancing Spike was reminded of the slayer she was not anymore, and he felt the familiar sadness and pain of the past year seep back into him. “No, pet, you shouldn’t know me. Maybe you saw someone who just looked like me.”

“The hair was what drew my attention to you at the music store, but…” She studied his distinctive features for a moment and then shook her head. She got hot just looking at him. “No, I’m sure I’ve never seen anyone else that looked like you.”

“The hair, uh? So what do you think you know about me, luv, after two meetings?” Spike felt odd saying only two meetings when he could remember so many more times they had been together over the years, including the few months that he and Buffy were lovers.

“I’m not a psychic, but I can read palms.” She rolled her eyes and gave an impish grin.

But before he had time to realize what she intended, she grasped his right hand, which had been lying on the table, and pulled it across the table toward her. As she did, he would have bet his duster on what she would say next.

“Your hand is cold.”

‘Bet with himself won, but if I stay around her, it was bound to eventually come up,’ he thought, ‘so let’s get it over with now.’ “I’m cold natured. Extremely cold natured. It’s a condition that I’ve had for years, which also makes me allergic to sunlight. I burn in direct rays.” However, instead of recognition or even disgust, he only saw curiosity in her eyes.

Still holding his hand in hers, Beth landed dead on the bizarre truth about him without even realizing it. “You sound like a vampire, except that you don’t have fangs, a cape with a stiff collar or have to drink blood.”

Thankful that he was not able to blanch any paler than he already was, Spike held an unnecessary breath, apprehensive of what would come out of her mouth next.

“You’re not like dying from this condition thingy, are you?” Beth’s mind was racing. ‘No, no, I just hunted this hottie down.’

The vampire was relieved by the direction her thoughts had turned, or rather where her thoughts had not gone. Her words confirmed her ignorance of his true nature. “No, I am not going to die.” ‘Well, that is true,’ Spike told himself, wanting to still stay close to the truth. ‘I’m already dead, aren’t I?’

Obviously pleased with his answer, Concerned Buffy changed back into Flirtatious Buffy. “Besides, if you were a vampire, you would bite people, wouldn’t you?” She looked at him through her lashes and gave him a teasing smile. “So, William, the million dollar question is do you bite?”

“Only if you ask me to, kitten.” Comfortable that his own secrets and the secrets of the past were again safely tucked back in the closet, Spike joined in the playful flirting. “So you think you are a fortune teller, do you?” He gave a nod toward his hand. “Why don’t you give it a go?”

Beth thought she was going to purr when he called her “kitten.” Actually, he was so sexy that he could have called her a lamp post, and she would still get turned on. She gazed at him intensely for a moment more before looking back down at his palm. “You have a long life line, if I knew where that was.”

Spike chuckled, wondering if she meant his life or unlife.

“You will have good luck, I guess.” Beth ran her thumb across his hand. At her soft touch on the sensitive part of his hand, Spike was glad that the table covered his instant arousal. Unaware, she continued, “You are loyal, like you would do anything for anyone you love.”

Spike watched her adorable blush at the use of the word, “love,” when she realized the implications, but as much as he wanted to, he didn’t read much into it. ‘Write it off to first date jitters, mate.’

“Anyway,” Beth continued, “what the world sees is the image you’ve developed for display, all to cover up the true, soft marshmellowy William insides. And you’ve been doing it for a hundred years.”

When he quickly drew his hand back, she laughed at his started expression, misinterpreting the reason for his reaction. “Sorry, I meant to say it feels like a hundred years. My bad. Believe me, you don’t look a hundred years old.” Actually, she thought he looked like one of her dreams come true, but due to her perceived blunder, she was more than ready to change the topic of conversation. “How old are you anyway, gramps?”

“Twenty-nine.” Spike replied, while thinking, ‘give or take a hundred years.’

Since she had been worrying that he was an “older man,” Beth liked that answer. ‘If he had said forty-seven, Mom would have had a fit, but twenty-seven was yet another green light.’ “So British William, why Sacramento? Why not LA, San Diego, New York or Moscow for that matter?”

Spike thought about his answer for a moment. “I have been in California on and off for the last few years. I did spend some time in Brazil, but I’m always drawn back to this area of the world. Why Sacramento? When I started to work chasing down bail jumpers, this seemed the likely place. It’s the capital, which means lots of courts, lots of accused, and lots of people needing bonds.”

“What you told me before sounds so interesting and exhilarating. I would love to put some excitement into my life. Let me go on a case.” Beth eyes sparkled.

What could he say? He couldn’t tell Beth that her life used to be filled with too much excitement. That if she went with him, it would not only be very dangerous for her, but that hunting with her would remind him of how they use to hunt together. That was the reason he didn’t want to hunt demons any more. So he got into hunting humans but just not killing them. The job may not be as exciting but rewarding putting humanities scum back in jail. Not to mention, the gig paid well.

Spike shook his head. “No, luv. When all the cases are divided out, only the most dangerous are left, and those are the ones I take.”

“I still don’t understand why I can’t go. Why do you take those cases? Could you take an easy one that I could go on?” Beth tried a pout out on William.

Reminded of the time he and the slayer were engaged while under Red’s spell, Spike wanted to lean across the table and nibble on her lower lip that was jutted out. He shook himself so he could concentrate on answering Beth’s question. This wasn’t the slayer that could take care of herself in a fight, but was sweet, young woman that didn’t know anything about going blow for blow with some wanker. So Spike stood firm on his decision no matter how beguiling she was, his urge to protect her was greater. “I take those cases for three reasons, luv. The pay is better because the bonds are usually higher and so the ten percent pay is higher. Second, they are the cases that no one has balls enough for or are stupid enough to take. The last reason is the thrill I get from taking the bugger down. The last two reasons are why you can’t go.”

“Are balls mandatory?” Beth asked with mock naiveté that had Spike laughing at her bawdy wit. Enjoying the sound of his laughter, she made a promise to herself to make sure she heard it more.

*****

When they left, Spike unwittingly fell back into his Victorian manners. He opened the door for Beth to walk outside, and without consciously noticing, he lightly placed a hand on her back, guiding her into the fresh night air. Yet, Beth noticed and enjoyed his old fashion courtesy, but when he first touched her back, his cold hand made her feel hot. Just to feel his touch longer, she wanted to walk right past her car and around the block. She made a mental note to send a gift basket or something nice to the bail bondsman who gave her William’s phone number.

When Spike realized where his hand was resting, he couldn’t take it off of her. Before he had come to the restaurant, he hadn’t been sure what to do with this Beth, but after talking to her, inhaling her unique smell and now feeling her warmth again after so long, he made his final decision. He would keep his word to Whistler and respect Buffy’s wish, but if Beth chose to spend time with him, he wouldn’t say no or even hesitate with a yes again.

They arrived at her car too soon for both of them, but he held the door open for her to climb in. Before completely in, Beth looked up at him. “Do I have to make up another lame excuse to see you next time I’m in town, like another round of guess the underwear?”

Spike gave her one of his grins, which she had rarely seen so far, before he closed the car door to the Jeep. Beth hurried to roll down the window to hear his reply. “No, pet, just give me a ring. That was my cell phone number that you hunted down, I always have it with me.”

As he watched her drive away, Spike made a promise to himself to never leave the flat without his cell phone and to get a new car. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news to the DeSoto, but he would give the lady his personal guarantee to put her in a nice storage facility and visit often.

*****