Part 9:

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He tossed and turned for three hours straight, staring intensely at the bright blue numbers every few minutes or so which didn't seem to help the restlessness. His gut grumbled it's annoying resonance and it was becoming unbearable. He needed blood, needed to feed right at that exact moment, otherwise go stark raving mad in the meantime.

He knew there was at least one packet of pig's blood stuffed back in the far reaches of the refrigerator, out of sight. He knew because he had put it there the last time he had been over to watch late night movies with the nibblet. But could he go unnoticed and sneak down the stairs to the kitchen without waking the slayer? That was the big question.

His dilemma was apparently obvious. Things just happened to be going fairly well now that "William" and Buffy were becoming friends. Spike didn't want to lose that growing friendship now and thought it best, in his own maniacal way, that Buffy didn't need to know he had regained all of the memories of his vampire existence back. She didn't need to know that Spike was now----well, Spike. He could be deceptive, hell, it's what he lived for. Evil, you know. He may have gone a bit soft, but he could still play the part. He could definitely put on a facade. He was a very good actor and never once thought of the dire consequences in the end.

Right now, all he could think about was feeding his craving. He slipped out of the bed and grabbed his jeans when he realized he was already wearing sweats. For certain one of Buffy's gifts to William. He shrugged not really caring because they were actually quite comfortable. Not his usual bedtime attire, but it would do.

He silently began to tiptoe down the stairs. Spike couldn't believe he had resorted to tiptoeing. About midway, the vampire hit a squeaky floorboard and cringed, cursing under his breath and standing completely still for a few seconds. When he heard nothing coming from Buffy's room he continued down the flight thinking that stalking his prey was a hell of a lot easier than playing keep away from the Slayer.

Once in the kitchen with the refrigerator door standing wide open, he ravishingly began to scoot things around, searching for the butcher's packet. A thought occured to him in the middle of this process. What if she surprised him by showing up in the kitchen? What would he tell her then? He picked up the orange juice container, grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and poured out some juice. As he replaced the container back on the shelf he grabbed the bag of blood. Damn, he wouldn't be able to warm it up. Oh well, he'd had worse.

Stepping out onto the back porch in the cool night air, he vamped out and sunk his teeth into the plastic bag, gulping greedily until he had completely drained it dry. Spike grimaced as he folded the bag into a nice neat square and headed back into the kitchen to stow the spent bag underneath the rest of the garbage in the kitchen trash can. He grabbed the filled glass, swigged the oj down in one gulp and placed the empty glass into the sink.

'Much better' he thought as he patted his tummy and grinned. But the grin turned into a frown. Back to the sneaking part. He was almost tempted to stay downstairs and sleep on the sofa but then would have to come up with a good excuse why he ended up on the couch. This time on the way up the steps he remembered which one was squeaky and bypassed it by stepping over the whole thing. As he shut the bedroom door silently behind him, he smiled and mentally patted himself on the back. 'Sly as a fox' he mused. 'I still got it.' Sleep overtook him quickly this time.

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It was after 10 in the morning when he roused himself from his deep yet unsatisfying sleep. He heard someone making racket downstairs and assumed it to be Buffy since Dawn was long gone to school. He wasn't prepared to face the new day, in fact not really prepared to face Buffy. His confidence in his acting and protrayal of "William" had dipped to a low and he was now feeling a bit queasy about the prospect of flat out lying to her.

He growled at his contemplations. What was he turning into? One lousy realistic dream about Buffy with his declarations of love and he had turned into a bleeding poncy schoolboy with a leash around his neck. He was being led straight into the bottomless pit of lovesick saps yet he hardly gave a struggle to keep his head above the rest. He didn't care; it was a good feeling to him. Much different than what he had with Drusilla. With Buffy, he would follow her around to the ends of the earth just to quench the fires that burned deep inside of him. If this was one way of getting her attention, then so be it. He'd rather be with her as William and feel at least a simplified version of love, than to be chasing after her as Spike and feel ridiculed and lowly.

That did it, he had made up his mind. Plan out the strategies and get into the game. He jumped out of bed and yanked the door open to find a pile of neatly folded brand new clothes sitting on the floor in front of him. He smiled at Buffy's growing sincerities. She had bought him some new clothes and even though they were nothing Spike would actually be caught "dead" in, he chuckled, William would most probably be a rather good-looking bloke in them. Spike scooped them up and headed to the bathroom to shower and change into the new duds.

Twenty minutes later, standing in the middle of the kitchen, he found himself alone in the house. Buffy had stepped out to run to the butcher's to grab some blood and had left a note to confirm her absence. So, Spike wandered back into the living room, very tempted to plop down on the couch and turn the telly on. He figured he better shut the Spike mode off even if he was by himself just in case. He didn't want to have to come up with excuses already in the beginning of his well thought out scheme.

He sat down on the couch anyway and glanced around. Something caught his roving eye; the notebook Dawn had given him the other night. Someone had moved it. He growled as he bent over to pick it up. How could he have been so careless to leave it just lying around for anyone to sneak a peak? Well, actually it was William who had left it out in the open. And he should have known better what with all the ridicule he had received over a century ago of his prose run mad. He began to flip through the pages to refresh his memory of what William had composed.

At the first reading of one of the poems, he groaned, threw his head back and closed his eyes tight. He chuckled in amusement.

"The bloody pouf fell hard, too. Doesn't surprise me, I guess, not in the least."

Spike continued to read the filled pages and was by all means impressed as he continued through the notebook. The first one, of course, was a bit flakey but he had to consider that he was a bit rusty. It had been quite sometime since he felt the urge to write poetry for anyone. And Buffy was just not anyone. She had captured his unbeating heart, and if he had one still, his very soul. His constant thoughts of her hit him to his very core and speaking of which, a deep tingle hit him just as the back door flew open. He quickly shut the notebook and thrust it between the cushion and the couch as he made his way to meet her in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Buffy," he greeted her shyly. "Can I help you in anyway?"

Buffy was trying to shut the door with her foot while balancing the three grocery bags in her arms. She smiled at him sweetly.

"Yes, please. Could you grab a bag or two? I'd appreciate it very much."

"Sure," he rounded the island and grabbed two bags out of her grasp, not noticing the beam of sunlight peeking through the open door which hit him directly on his left hand. He recoiled from it and hissed as the bag tumbled towards the floor. In the nick of time though, he scooped it up in his free arm before it hit. Vampire speed was still there. Buffy hurriedly slammed the door shut and ran to his side, grabbing the injured hand.

"It's alright, I'm alright. Don't worry---," he sputtered out.

"Hush," and she led him over to the sink and turned on the cool water, holding his burnt hand underneath the gentle flow. All he could do was stare at her, adoration plainly etched across his face.

"Thank you for the clothes," he barely voiced to her.

Buffy turned to look at him and got caught in his mesmerizing eyes. They stood there, water running over his hand, staring at one another for what seemed ages.

"You're welcome," she whispered. The phone rang shrilly and broke them both out of the trance. She shook her head and left him standing at the sink to answer the call.

He shut the water off and dried the wound gently just as she popped back up next to him. He showed it to her.

"See, healing already. I love this part---uh, the healing aspect, I mean," he said joyfully.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize the sun was coming in and---."

"Oh, not to worry. I'm sure I've had worse burns. Besides, I didn't think about it either. Me, I was the one who stuck his hand into the frying pan." He snickered at himself. Buffy giggled at the remark, too.

She began to empty out the bags. Seems she had gone to the grocery store as well.

"I bought some blood and I stopped by the Magic Box and picked up some of that Berber weed you seem to like so well, you know, when you were mentally Spike. You said it spiced it up or something like that. I thought it might be easier for you to drink it, you know, at first."

Spike stared at her in awe, transfixed by your thoughtfulness. She noticed him staring at her all goofy looking and everything.

"What?" she laughed.

"Amazing!"

"What's amazing?"

The look he had disappeared. "Oh, um, just that you would remember something like that. I mean, you yourself said you were not close to--- him, me, Spike. I just thought---oh, never you mind. Can I help you?"

"Sure, if you can find a place for these in the black hole we call the refrigerator."

He chuckled slightly as he began to shuffle things and scoot foodstuffs around in the cold abyss. Buffy glanced at him over her shoulder.

"I have two classes this afternoon that I need to go to. You think you will be alright here by yourself until, um, around 4:30ish? Dawn should be home by then and I generally get home around 5 or so."

"I think I can handle myself until then. I'm sure there is plenty of activities around here that will keep me preoccupied."

She took the last remaining items over to him to place in the fridge and stood, gaping at the now reorganized cold arrangement.

"Wow, you have great organizational skills. I always thought it strange how neat your, I mean Spike's, crypt is. Want to organize my closet?" she giggled. He laughed along with her.

She popped the blood filled mug into the microwave and heated it up while he finished up his refrigerator stocking. By the time he was finished, she had the warmed blood, two sandwiches and a pile of carrot sticks sitting out on the island ready to be eaten. Once again, he was amazed that she was so considerate and thoughtful. She would have never done anything like this for Spike, for him. William, on the other hand, was getting to be spoiled.

She took a huge bite out of her ham sandwich and grinned at him as he did the same.

"Tonight," she spoke around the mouthful, "we can sit and talk about being a vampire and all the things that come with the whole package. Sound good?"

He shook his head yes, eyes twinkling. 'Shall be very interesting to find out what the slayer has to say about vampires indeed.' Spike mused.

TBC

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Part 10:

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Yeah, right. Who was he kidding? He was now completely bored out of his somewhat sane mind. Four long hours to have to put up with the thoughts of "William" who was telling him, Spike, that he was doing wrong. Wrong! Spike doing something wrong? Hello? Evil! When did he ever do anything that was right? Unless it benefited him of course.

"Bloody, stupid conscience," he muttered under his breath. He had already watched Passions, tried to take a "cat nap", which when your conscience is on overdrive, doesn't work very well, and had a snack of warm blood and Weetabix. He gripped the couch cushions on either side of him, threw his head back and growled with disgust.

"Oh," he perked up. "Neat. I almost forgot about this beauty." He reached under the cushion he was sitting on and withdrew the notebook he had stashed there earlier in the day. "This should keep me entertained at least until the bit gets home."

For the hour or so he read, grimaced, gagged, chuckled and rolled his eyes. He even jotted down a few things all the while thinking what a poufy poet William was compared to himself. Spike would never admit to anyone that he still actually wrote poetry every once in a while. He had all his works rather well hidden in his crypt so no one would ever be the wiser of his pasttime.

He heard Dawn walking up the steps of the front porch and stuffed the notebook back into its original hiding place just until he could find a better place to tuck it away in. She trudged through the doorway, looking like her day had gone to hell in a handbasket, so he greeted her with a pleasing smile.

"Hey, how's my little---Dawn?"

"Today was so unlikeable. Do I really have to finish school? Do I really have to graduate?"

"Well, um, it would probably be the wisest thing to do. Besides I think big sis would really like it if you did."

Dawn stared at him. "You know, everyday you start to sound more and more like Spike."

"Oh, sorry then." Spike cringed inwardly.

"No, no, don't be sorry. I like that. I mean don't get me wrong. I like you William, but I---I really miss Spike. He was fun and I could talk to him without feeling like a kid. He never talked down to me. He made me feel older."

"Ah, well, I can be fun. Wanna do something fun?"

"I better get my homework finished first."

"Oh, right. Better get the homework done."

"I'll be up in my room."

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Buffy came through the back door to find William sitting on a stool at the island reading the newspaper. He looked up when she entered giving her a warm and welcoming grin. She returned it and plopped her bookbag down in front of him.

"Do I really have to finish college?"

Spike chuckled at her. "Must run in the family genes. Dawn said the exact same thing, well, except for the end bit there."

"Yeah, well sometimes I wonder. Hey, I think we should order in tonight. Pizza sounds like a good comfort food right about now. Pizza and icecream. I think you will enjoy it, too."

"I---think that sounds feasible."

"Good. Pizza, icecream, movies and some vampire discussion."

As Buffy walked out of the kitchen, Spike rolled his eyes and snorted. "Oh, goody. Can't wait."

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The evening carried on just as Buffy proclaimed it would. The three of them devoured a whole extra-large pizza with the works while watching a movie that Dawn picked out. A girly movie, of course, though Spike admitted it wasn't so bad except for the sniveling romantic parts. He suppressed a few snickers especially seeing the girls watch those specific parts so intently and dreamily. He was afraid he would have to leave the room if either of them started with the waterworks. Fortunately, both remained calm and in control of their emotions. At the end of it, Buffy caught him staring at the t.v. with a look on his face that could be best described as a 'What in the free world was that all about"?

"Good movie," he turned to them and grinned. Dawn and Buffy burst out laughing.

"Men never do get this movie, even if they *are* from the 19th century," Buffy giggled to her sister as Dawn aknowledged with an affirmative headshake.

Spike shrugged his shoulders and thought, 'That's a relief to know', before getting up and following the two into the kitchen. He watched as Buffy pulled out the carton of icecream out of the freezer, three bowls out of the cabinet, a dipper and three spoons out of the drawer and began to prepare a snack. She stopped before dipping some out and looked up at him.

"Oh, you want some icecream?"

"Maybe just a little."

She fixed his, Dawn declined as she grabbed a bag of chips, and finished scooping up three large scoops that barely fit into her bowl. Spike's eyes grew large at the proportion sitting in front of her.

"Well, I must say, I don't see where you can put all of that, slayer, with such a tiny frame. First pizza, now icecream, where does it all go?" Buffy's head snapped up and she glared at him even though he wasn't looking at her at the time being.

"The women I know, friends of my mother's, eat like little delicate birds. I often thought it ridiculous, nibbling on their tarts and finger sandwiches. I'm sure though once they were alone, they would scarf a three course meal down in one setting."

Buffy relaxed a bit after he continued rambling. Something suddenly just struck her oddly and she couldn't for the life of her put her finger on it. Oh well.

They sat in the kitchen while Dawn shuffled off to finish her homework before bedtime.

"So, how's it been going for you since you've,---you know, found out what you really are?" Buffy asked him around a spoonful of chocolate fudge ripple.

Spike scraped his bowl clean before plopping the spoon back in it. His brow furrowed as he cocked his head to the side. "Unbelievably easy, actually. My body tells me when I should---what did you call it? Feed?"

Buffy shook her head yes.

"So I do just that. It's still a bit hard to drink it, but I manage." He looked away.

"Any other strange things you've been experiencing?" Buffy picked up the bowls and walked them to the sink.

"For instance?"

She turned and crossed her arms, leaning up against the counter. "Like wanting to sleep through the whole day, stay up all night thing. Any urges you can't figure out?"

Spike's brows raised. Buffy cleared her throat and continued before walking back to her seat. "You know, like the sudden need to hunt, or kill, or maim something or someone."

"You're not scared I'm going to hurt you or Dawn, are you? Because I would never do such a thing, you know that, right?" He sounded hurt and bewildered at her last statement.

She looked at him in surprise and shook her head no. "No, I know, just that you couldn't anyway what with the chip and everything. I just wondered---if the thought was there. Like I sort of do with Spike all the time. I know he can't but I wonder if he really wants to."

"Ah, I understand where you're coming from. Never thought about it, I guess. It's like starting out new in the world. I suppose on down the road I may have the animalistic urges, but maybe in the state I'm in as of the moment, I can keep them tame and under control better. But I will be sure to let you know the second something occurs to throw me for a loop."

"And your senses. Do you notice a significant difference?"

"Oh yes, very much so. I have extremely good eyesight at night. My hearing, when I'm paying attention, is probably five times greater. I've also noticed a distinct smell wafting in from the back porch area. Either you have some dead animal close by or something or someone is leaving you odoriferous gifts."

"Disgusting. I will check on that in the morning, thanks. And your strength; have you tested that?"

"Ah, I bent Dawn's lamp back into shape this afternoon. I---."

"Please, I don't want to know how it got bent in the first place. Or who's fault it was. So I will tell you a little about---well, you."

"The good part." He smiled at her.

"Well, first things first. I am the Slayer. I kill vampires and demons, and protect humans from such creatures. Now don't go ballistic. You're still here, aren't you? I'll tell you why. I met you, or rather Spike about 3 years ago. He came to town with his vampire girlfriend, Drusilla, intending to take and kill my then boyfriend, who happened to be the sire to Dru, by performing some kind of ritual to heal her sickness, or at least the physical one."

"Where is this Drusilla?"

"I don't think we really know. She left you, or Spike that is, last year, I think he said for a chaos demon---or maybe it was a fungus demon---or vice versa. Anyway, she left him because he had helped me defeat Angelus, the soulless vampire who used to be my boyfriend."

Inside, Spike was reeling with anger from having to listen to the facts about Dru's dismissal of him and her affairs. If not bad enough, she brought up the name Angelus, which caused a sour taste to form in the back of his throat. He remained calm while she continued her talk.

"Anyway, Spike and Dru left, only for him to return almost six months later the first time she cheated on him. I guess she didn't like the fact that he had helped me save the world from going to hell. Spike left Sunnydale again for almost a whole year, but returned when Dru cheated on him again. That and he came looking for the ring of Amarra."

"Amarra?"

"It was a fabled ring that supposedly made a vampire completely immortal while it was worn. Needless to say Spike found it, which caused another one of our many battles with one another in which I kicked his ass."

Spike began to cough. Buffy looked up and smiled at his reaction. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

"So, I take it we've had many fights with one another? Yet, we both seem very much alive and now sitting here together in your kitchen talking civilly."

"Well, I'm getting to that. Not too long after that incident when I took the ring away from him, he was captured by this team of secret underground army guys called The Initiative."

"The chip."

"Yes, they implanted Spike with a microchip. It was to, well basically neuter him. Keep him from harming and feeding on humans. He came to me and the scoobies looking for help and we basically took him in. Spike, reluctantly may I add, helped us from time to time, of course for money and other such items. Just recently, maybe a couple of months ago, he tried to have the chip removed. I never did find out why but I think he was afraid he was changing, becoming good, fighting against the evil he had been a part of for so long."

"Hmm, and did that have any affect on you?"

"I had a hard time trusting him especially when he went behind my back to get the chip taken out. We fight all the time, verbally, physically. One time, a little old lady was walking by when we were arguing and thought we were married." Buffy began to laugh. Spike smiled at hearing the sound then joined in with her. Finally the laughter slowly subsided.

"He had been starting to act a bit out of sorts lately."

'What do you mean?"

"A lot more kind and courteous, especially towards me. Less fighting and when we do, it seems as if he lets me win. Dawn thinks he has a crush on me, or, hmm, let me see what word would you understand? Affections? What do you think?"

Spike tensed and sat up straight, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "IIIIIII---," he drawled out.

The telephone rang suddenly and Buffy jumped off her seat and ran to get it. Spike dropped his chin to his chest and released a lungful of air he was holding. His mind raced; he didn't know exactly what to say to her. Hopefully she would forget her question when she got off the phone. She hung up and walked back towards him.

"That was Giles. He was getting ready to close up the Magic Box when a certain warlock walked in. Giles is going to try to keep him preoccupied so I gotta run. I should be back before midnight so let Dawn know where I'm at, ok?"

Spike shook his head yes as she took off through the living room and out the front door. He sat there a bit, dumbfounded. Was it a good thing that she was going to be able to talk to the warlock who got him into the mess in the first place, or was it going to be trouble yet again for good ol' Spikey? He sprawled his top half out on the island and groaned desperately.

TBC

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Part 11:

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Her mind fought an ongoing battle all the way to the Magic Box, two sides against each other. Her body must have been reacting to it because she found herself most of the time walking at top speed but at other times her feet felt like lead weights and she struggled to take the next step. 'What is wrong with me?' the question plagued her over and over.

On one hand, she was beginning to enjoy having William around. He was extremely nice, well mannered, kind and courteous. He was capable of doing a lot of amazing things that she never would have guessed in a million years Spike knew how to do. Maybe she thought she could mold him into someone she would rather have around more often than the annoying reality that was Spike. On the other hand, and deep down in the folds of her mind, she missed Spike. She missed arguing with him, missed the spontaneity of him showing up out of nowhere, though sometimes that got a bit disturbing how he knew where she was and what was going on, and she had to admit, she missed giving him a good smack every now and again. Why ,oh why, couldn't the two of them, Spike and William, just come together and be a perfect little---a perfect little---Spilliam.

Buffy stood outside the shop doors and wrestled with the decision she had yet to make. Well, it wouldn't hurt she supposed, to just talk to the warlock. Make sure nothing bad was going to happen to William or Spike from the remnants of the curse. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and marched into the shop, shoulders squared. Giles was the only one standing in the room.

"Uh, Giles," Buffy whined. "You let him get away, didn't you?"

"Well, it wasn't from lack of trying, I do say. I kept him here as long as I could without risking myself or any appendages. But----." Giles looked positively giddy as he walked over to the cash register.

"I am now in possession of one Sherman Henderson's address."

"Wow, I'm impressed. Did he buy anything unusual? Any witchcrafty stuff?"

"Just a few herbs, oils and whatnot. Nothing out of the ordinary. Here you go, you may even beat him home."

"Thanks, Giles. I owe you one. No, no, I take that back. I think your IOU list is much longer than mine. So, strike that off the record. I'll talk to you later." Buffy teased.

"Be careful, Buffy. You never know who you're dealing with on the hellmouth." Giles sounded overly concerned.

"Got it. Night."

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Buffy dashed all thoughts from her head as she made her way down the street to Mr. Henderson's house. Except for that one. Mr. Henderson. Did that sound like a threatening name? Mr. Henderson. Mr. Sherman Henderson.

"Hi, I'm Sherman Henderson, warlock extraordinare. For my next curse, I'm going to turn you into a frog." Buffy giggled uncontrollably as she shuffled along the the walk. She turned the corner onto the next street and suddenly found herself standing in front of the house at 1520 Hardy Street and with hands on her hips, stood there and just stared. It was a typical English Tudor style house and everything about it looked pleasant and homey. The walk to the door was lit as well as the front door which held a beautiful wreath of wildflowers centered around a brass knocker. Buffy told herself though, looks can be deceiving, especially living on the Hellmouth.

She knocked respectfully on the door and a young girl about Dawn's age or younger answered it. The girl smiled sweetly at the stranger, Buffy, upon seeing her.

"I've been expecting you. Do come in. Tea will be served in a moment. We've been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Come in and sit a spell with us." She waved her hand towards a brightly lit room just off of the hallway.

Buffy walked towards the doorway and peered in. The little room was decorated in a Victorian style with cut glass wall sconces illuminating it. Dolls and stuffed animals were sitting all around on every piece of furnture as well as around a small wooden table that was set with delicate china plates, cups and saucers. Shiny silverware placed on cloth napkins were also a part of the table setting.

A man, who was much older than the girl, walked out into the hall drying his hands on a dishtowel, in which he casually draped over his shoulder when finished and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Anessa, who are you talking to, dear? Oh---I'm very sorry. I didn't realize we had company." He sincerely said.

"Mr. Henderson? Sherman Henderson I presume?"

He let his arms slowly fall to his sides and his eyes formed into slits as he glared at her intensely.

"Do I know you?"

"In a way."

The girl crossed in between them as she headed back into the tea room with a tea kettle all the while humming a soft melody.

"As I was saying, in a way." Buffy quickly strode towards the man at the end of the hallway, grabbing him by the front of the shirt and pushing him hard up against the wall.

"Wha---who are you?" he gasped out.

"I'm the slayer---and I know who you are. Or what you are." Her voice became slightly threatening as she growled the last words out.

"What I am?" He seemed surprised.

"You threatened a vampire that I know last Friday night. In fact, I'm pretty sure you cast a spell on him, cursed him somehow. Made him lose his memory. If it wasn't for me, he probably would have ended up dying."

"And that's a bad thing? Can I stand on my own two feet and talk civilly with you?" He didn't seem all too afraid of the Slayer at the moment. Buffy slowly lowered him back to the ground but kept a firm hand against his chest.

"You're standing now. I don't trust you though to completly let go. So spill."

"I *am* a warlock, yes. You do have that bit of information correct. And yes, I did cast a spell on the excruciatingly annoying vampire last week. He acted like he was some sort of hero, a white knight rescuing a damsel in distress."

"Well, he did say you were standing over an unconcious girl and working some kind of magic spell on her."

"Yes, correct. " He lifted his arm and pointed to something behind Buffy.

"That girl." The man said softly. Buffy held onto him tight as she warily turned her head to stare at the young girl now standing wide-eyed in the doorway clutching a dolly tight to her chest, her bottom lip slightly quivering. Buffy's head snapped back around and glared at the warlock.

"Who is she to you and what were you doing with her?" Buffy asked tensely.

"She's my little sister. I've been her guardian ever since our parents died ten years or so ago. She has a tendency to wander off, and get a little out of control. You see, Miss----uh, Slayer, she has a bit of the witchcraft in her as well, but she is not mentally capable of handling it. She's always been this way, was born mentally challenged, a little slow. But she knows she can do certain things; they're not always good things, and they tend to wreak havoc on our fair little town and it's patrons. Last Friday, I found her in the middle of a demon bar. I got to her in time; they were about to have her for their little party. I think I hurt a few of the party goers,of course, not meaning to and I had to knock her out and take her to my mother's grave in the cemmetery. I was casting a spell, yes. It was a leash in a way. Something to stabilize Anessa, her mind, spirit and body. Keep her from wandering off. Then that crude vampire attacked me."

Buffy removed her hand from the man's chest. "Well, he tends to over re- act sometimes. But I think he was just trying to help the girl who he thought was a victim and in danger."

"I don't understand. He's a vampire. A creature of the night. Why would he be helping humans?"

Buffy sighed and shook her head. "It's a long story. He's handicapped himself. He has a chip in his head that keeps him from harming humans and killing them. But he can fight demons. He has kind of in a way come to our side to help me and my friends in the slaying department. So you see, Mr. Henderson, he was trying to rescue the damsel in distress as you say. He just didn't wait to find out the whole story. And I can't believe I am standing up for him. You are right in one aspect. He is an annoying vampire, in more ways than I care to explain. But he has become an ally, almost a friend. And I'm sorry if he disrupted your plans. But can you help me with whatever you have done with him?"

"This is strange, so very odd. Did you know that he is in love with you?"

Buffy's mouth dropped open. "The what, the who? Huh?"

"The way he went on and on about you. How you were going to find me and tear me into little pieces because he couldn't do it himself. Now I understand why he couldn't. He spoke very highly of you."

"You don't say. In love with me? I think you're mistaken about that."

He crossed his arms and smiled. "Not so sure about that. And what is wrong with him? The curse I performed on him was just a joke. Something to throw him off balance, teach him a vital lesson on who he can and cannot mess with. He said he was a pathetic human so I made him lose all memory of his vampire form. It was only a 48 hour spell, Slayer. He should have come back to his normal belligerent self around midnight Sunday night, or Monday morning whichever way you want to look at it. He should be alright now. Right as rain."

"But I don't understand. He's still William, his human self. Why would he- ----ohhhh. Oh, now I see. I think I'm catching on and seeing things clearly now. I just may have to do him some bodily harm after all."

"Slayer?"

"It's Buffy. I do apologize for coming in here all up in arms about this."

"Apology accepted. I think, Buffy, that your vampire friend may have liked being human, or maybe liked the way he was being treated as his human self. I may be wrong but---then again, he could have just been playing with your head. Trying to get the upperhand perhaps. I don't know him as well as you."

"Perhaps. All I know is that I'm gonna play my own little mind game with him. See how he likes it. Thank you again, and oh, by the way, don't threaten my slaying abilities ever again."

"Oh, never again, Slayer, never again."

Buffy turned and huffed as she left, seeing red almost the whole way back to Revello Drive. She had developed her own scheme to bring the vampire to his knees, knock him for a loop so to say. This was going to be fun.

A block away from her house, she stopped and calmed herself down enough to seem like everything was normal. She casually walked into the house and stopped in the foyer. Stunned, she slowly looked around and took everything in. The living room and the dining room was all but sparkling clean. Everything had been dusted, vacuumed, and straightened. She heard commotion coming from the kitchen and quietly she made her way down the hall to the doorway.

He was standing at the sink drying the last dish that he had supposedly just washed. He slid it into the cabinet and turned around, jumping slightly and grabbing his chest at seeing Buffy leaning up against the doorframe.

"Buffy, you startled me. I didn't even realize you had come in. Must be off in another world, either that or my hearing is going. Could be an age thing." He chuckled at his own joke.

She continued to stare at him, amazed, even with knowing what kind of pratical joke he had been playing on her this whole time. She smiled sweetly.

"You've been cleaning."

He looked around and grinned. "Yep. Nothing better to do. And it beats sitting around and staring at the walls. Besides you have your hands full with everything else, I wanted to help out." He walked around the center island and leaned up against it, his hands grasping the edges on either side of him.

"Thank you. I really mean it, thanks." She slowly began to walk towards him.

He shrugged and smiled shyly. "Not a problem. Happy that I can help."

"Yes, but how will I ever repay you for your kindness, William?" Buffy drawled out seductively as she continued to walk to him.

His eyes grew large as he stood up straight and pushed his hands into his front pockets of his pants. "Um, whatever do you mean?"

"Oh," her last step she took in one large stride as she ended up barely an inch away from his now trembling body. "I think you know what I mean, William."

"I, I, I'm sure I don't." He began to stutter.

Buffy placed her hands on the counter blocking him in and stood up on her toes as she stared deeply into his blue eyes. She noticed he was breathing now, almost raggidly.

"You've been doing so much around here, cooking, cleaning, helping Dawn with schoolwork, that I almost think you are doing these things because you want something in return." Buffy whispered.

"No, no," he croaked out. "I mean you've given me friendship, and kindness, a place to sleep not to mention all the things you've bought for me." His whole body was tingling and he felt the heat pouring off of her, warming him to his very---, well, if he had a soul it would be warm and glowing.

"Then can I give you another gift?"

"I---I suppose if you really want to," he whispered not knowing why he was acting so timid at the moment.

Buffy leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. Pulling back and looking at his face, she saw that he still had his eyes tightly closed. She smiled deviantly before leaning in again and plundering his cool, wet mouth with her tongue in a deep, seering, passionate kiss to end all kisses.

TBC

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Part 12:

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Her mind reeled and screamed at her to stop the madness. But her body wasn't listening or worse yet it wasn't responding. The sensations that swept over her the instant she kissed him were consuming her from head to toe. She felt him tense up, felt his nerves twitch at her first touch, then he relaxed, his lips melding against hers, a wonderfully perfect fit. Both of them exploring each other's tantalizing mouths. Hers warm, his cool. Both open and wanting. Had it always been like this for her? Wanting and needing so much? Was this the cause of all the frustrations between them, the fighting, verbal shouting matches, the need she felt to inflict bodily hurt on him whenever he drove her to the brink of anger? Was all of it their way of foreplay?

She felt him gently grab her forearms and pull her even closer. The same time she wove her fingers through his hair above the nape of his neck and pressed, kneading, pulling him closer to her. She had an urge to breathe and broke away, heard him moan slightly at the loss of Buffy lips as she gasped and delved in for more. The only thing playing in the back of her mind during the scenario was how different he was compared to the other vampire that had existed in her life.

Thinking of Angel and kissing Spike sent her in a spiral. She suddenly knew she had to stop or else she may never want to. Her mind began to function clearly as she realized she was trying to pay him back for lying to her. Enact revenge.

'Think, damn it, Buffy think,' she screamed at herself.

She suddenly became quite aware of the visitor that arose between them and knew things had to be tapered off but quickly. She could easily just shut her mind off and let one thing lead to another. But, she knew, would only make matters worse and she needed some answers.

Buffy pulled away slowly even though his face followed her retreating one. Their foreheads touched slightly and she complied to him and stayed in that position.

"Spike?" she barely could speak.

"Hmmm?"

Buffy pulled back staring at him, saw his brow crease with the loss of her touch. As if right on cue, his eyes snapped open.

"I mean, Buffy, yes, me, William. Not Spike. Not---."

"Why did you call me Slayer earlier tonight?" He looked almost surprised by her question.

"What? When?"

"When I was dishing out my icecream. How did you know? How did you know I was the Slayer? I never told you and I know no one else told you and all my weapons are locked up. Why did you call me that?"

Spike was stunned into silence, his mind working on high speed.

"I'm sure you told me, Buffy. Didn't you? Maybe it's some of the residual memories of Spike. Yes, I believe---." Buffy backed away from him a few paces, arms crossed diligently over her chest.

"Don't give me that cockamamie story. Are you going to spill the beans? Tell me the truth?"

"Tell you the truth? I'm---I'm not sure what it is you want to hear. Buffy---," he tried to be reasoning.

"Fine. When did you get your memory back, Spike?"

"My---memory?"

She threw her arms up with disgust, sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

"You know when you start repeating my questions back to me, it's a sure sign you are trying to come up with another lie to get yourself out of dutch."

There was an uneasy silence between the two. Spike finally shifted and groaned uneasily.

"Sunday night, sometime around midnight." He mumbled not looking at her. He lifted his eyes and looked at her almost pleadingly. "But Buffy---."

She held up a hand to silence him. "I don't want to hear anything right now. Leave. I don't want to see you back in this house or around any of my family or friends again. And Spike, that includes me."

She noticed the look of astonishment on his face as he stood staring at her. He didn't budge. She walked over to him, grabbed him by the arm and walked him briskly to the front door.

"Buffy," he growled out. "Please, let me explain."

"Not now!" she snapped.

She swung the door open swiftly and pushed him out onto the porch. He turned around, a look of hurt in his eyes, and took a step back towards the doorway.

"Buffy, I---I love you."

She scowled, a look of disgust apparent on her face as she shut the door and locked it. He placed his palm against it, leaning forward til his head touched the solid wood and sighed sadly. On the other side, Buffy had her back against it, eyes shut tightly with the lingering anger. She felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach and turning her head so her ear rested against the door, she knew he was still there.

"Go home," she said slightly above a whisper.

"I thought I was home," came the dejected reply from the other side. And then he was gone. Confusion, hurt, anger, longing all settled upon her shoulders. She pushed off from the door and began to sulk towards the basement.

"This was supposed to have a happy ending," she told herself as she walked down the steps. She started to punch at the bag hanging from the rafter, beating it to a pulp if it had been a demon.

"Why does it always end up with the lying and betrayal, and deceipt, and--- and---anger, resentment, pain, hate, longing, needing, wanting, lusting, loving." She stopped the wailing on the bag and began to wonder.

"Wait! What? Did he say that he loved me? He can't---I mean there's no--- Can he?" She growled and unconciously began to destroy the basement, her temper giving away and going way out of control as things went flying this way and that. She kicked a small bookshelf with her foot and it toppled over, the paperback romances her mom stored down there to read while waiting on laundry scattering everywhere.

Something caught her attention and she stopped her assault on the inanimate objects now strewn across the dank basement floor. A notebook had been hidden behind the shelf and it looked like one of Dawn's school notebooks. Buffy took a few breaths to calm herself as she bent over to pick it up. In the bottom right corner were three letters. WEW. That didn't make sense, wasn't a word she knew. She opened the front cover and saw the fluid script on the first page. She realized in a split second that it was not Dawn's nor her mother's handwriting. Which meant it could only be one other person's.

She heard loud footsteps above her and the basement door flew open. Dawn stepped down onto the second step.

"Buffy?" Dawn sounded scared.

"I'm here, Dawnie. Go on back to bed. Everything's fine, had a---" she looked around the messy basement. "a demon to tame. Got it under control so go to sleep now."

"Promise to tell me more tomorrow then?"

"Yes, I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Buffy."

She waited, listening for her sister's retreating steps to go back upstairs and then situated herself on the bottom step. On the first page, she realized it was really nothing but a bunch of words. Words like scared, nervous, confused and near the bottom turned into safe, caring, happy, loved. The letters WEW were written in the bottom corner again. How strange.

The second page was a short story. A sentimental story about his mother and his sister. Buffy felt guilty for reading something that so clearly came from his heart. He missed them dearly. When it ended with William's signature, she realized it wasn't a story, but a letter he had written to them. Ok so yes, maybe he was capable of love. But he thought he was human then. Did it matter? This would go against everything Buffy was ever told about vampires and the demons who took over their bodies. Was it possible for vampires to keep any form of humanity? She didn't know if she should continue on. It was almost like reading someone's diary.

She flipped through the pages and noticed most of them contained basically poems. A few were short and didn't really mean very much to her. She never really did understand the benefits of reading poetry. Four bold words in particular caught her eye as she slowly sifted through the filled pages.

HER NAME IS BUFFY was written all in capital letters and under it a poem. She felt the stronge urge to read it.

Who is this being that flitters to and fro,

Constant on the go.

A stranger perhaps but strange no less,

For when I see her now, pure comfort and tenderness.

Lest I forget the feeling I embued upon my first sight.

Maddening confusion, deafening silence, creeping fright.

Til I heard her speak twice the time.

Gentleness flowed from her lips to ears of mine.

I cannot say what has come over me this day.

The fears, uncertainties have melted away.

Her kind, generous, handle with care philosophy,

has become a friend so desperately needed in this time for me.~~

Below it was his name, William Edward Winters, III, in beautiful script. So that was what the WEW stood for. She never knew Spike had such beautiful handwriting either. But, she recalled, she had never seen anything written in his hand before, well, until tonight. She continued going through the notebook. She came across a sappy love poem she knew was for her. Had to be since it described her and her features. She was a little embarrassed after reading it. She realized then that William had fallen for her. Great, wonderful. What was it about her that not only made Spike fall for her but his human alter ego go for her as well? She sat and pondered on the question. Couldn't figure anything out.

The rest of the pages were mostly blank except for a few doodles, a few words scattered here and there. She was about ready to close the notebook when the last page fluttered open. It was dated today, well yesterday since it was now in the early morning hours of the next day, this day, and oh nevermind. It was Tuesday. There seemed to be written a few choice Spikisms, especially about the "bloody poufter William" and his "sappy Buffy love poems". Some things caught her off guard though. Spike had written a short paragraph, almost an oath if you will, depicting promises he must have thought that he could keep. Promises to: 'protect her and hers, watch over them, help her fight the baddies and keep her town safe from harm, and to fight by her side til the end of time, whenever that was.' But the one that made her gasp outloud was the last sentence. 'To love her forever and always, to never leave her, and to giver her what she deems she deserves.'

She felt her eyes began to burn as they travelled down the page. The page actually ended with a poem that she knew was written by the vampire himself but in the still flawless script she was sure would always be a constant of his human side. She gently shut the notebook, sighed wearily and headed back upstairs, coveting the book closely to her chest. It would rest under her pillow tonight. She would give it back to him in the morning after she got out of class.

TBC

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Part 13:

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He had been pacing the floor of his crypt for so long, he was beginning to form a rut in the ground. So many emotions were hitting him all at once. Anger, bitterness, hatred. How did she do it? How did she always bollocks up everything he planned? Never failed; she was always one step ahead of him and he was growing weary of it all. He was a mastermind of evilness. Well, at least he used to be before he was turned into an enfeebled ponce. He growled.

He would finish what he started, be rid of the slayer once and for all. All she did was cause him pain and frustration. Having the damn chip in his head was holding him back. But there were ways around that, had to be. He was a master vampire, by gum. He could get the job done one way or the other, when she least expected it and by god what was he saying? He stopped dead in his tracks and let out an earth shattering roar to the heavens.

"See what you do to me, you silly bint?" He started pacing again, talking outload to no one in particular.

"I tried to explain, but no, she didn't want to listen. She had been so different, so kind, so nice. Of course, at the time she thought I was William, but, well, in a way I am. No, no I'm not. I'll never be *him* again. The poufter. But she liked him, I could tell. And," he stopped suddenly as if realizing something important. "And I told her I loved her."

Spike moaned and plopped down in his well worn chair, dust billowing and settling around him. He threw one leg over the arm and laid his head on the back of the seat cushion. His thoughts rambled on.

'She kissed me. Just walked right up to me and kissed me. Did she know who I was when she did that? Did she know what it would do to me?'

He lifted his head up and groaned again. "She's such a tease. Got me all worked up for what? Nothing but to kick me out of her house, out of her life."

His head drifted back down as he stared at the ceiling of his crypt. But oh, what a kiss it was. 'I have *never* felt *anything* like that in my whole entire existence.' He told himself, almost reassuringly. His eyes began to slowly drift close as all the previous evenings excitement waned. He wanted nothing but sweet, comforting, non-violent Buffy dreams to occupy his sleep. As well as he did.

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Buffy, on the other hand, did not sleep the sleep of the dead. She attributed it to the obnoxious blonde vampire, who she had kicked out of her house and supposedly out of her life only hours ago and who was still plaguing her mind. She recalled the look on his face when he had turned around on the porch and told her those 3 awful words. Awful because they came from his mouth, in his voice. Something she never expected to hear from that pernicious, blood sucking fiend. Ok, so maybe those words were a bit too harsh to describe Spike especially in the present state he was in. An irritating nuisance was more his speed nowadays.

Realization took hold and reminded her that he had been subservient lately, patrolling with her, fighting the baddies, even watching out for her little sister. Now her mind was guilt-ridden. And it was riddled with questions she herself could not answer. She suspected the warlock had a point. Maybe Spike was enjoying the family setting. He was actually good at acting like William when he wasn't really William. Was that all it was though, just an act? Or was it genuine?

Buffy rolled onto her back and pushed her fingers through her hair, groaning slightly. She had suddenly remembered she had never given him a chance to explain anything. She was her usual bitchy self and gave him the usual heave-ho right out the front door. And that was after the pleasurable lip lock routine she had planned ahead of time to tease and torture him with. Never expected it to have any effect on her whatsoever. Now she knew better. Now it was too late to take it back.

Her mind rambled on as she drifted off to slumber a few hours before daybreak.

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She was looking tired, the dark circles apparent under her eyes that she had tried her best to cover up before leaving the house. She strolled defiantly through the familiar graveyard and up to the door of his crypt, her backpack hanging loosely from her shoulders. She never wavered as she pushed the door aside letting in a stream of sunlight as she did so.

Spike propelled himself out of the chair and whirled around to see who had intruded his living quarters. That and he thought briefly that he might just want to move the sodden chair a bit farther away from the door, where it seemed he could easily get toasted if he fell asleep in it again.

Great! The Slayer. Just who he wanted to see right at this moment and him with a bloody crick in the neck to boot. He dropped his head and sighed loudly.

"What, love? Didn't finish telling me off enough last night? Come here to kick me out of my own crypt and send me on my way now? You know you have no bleeding right to just barge on in here. It's not your place."

"And neither is it yours. Its," her mind wandered to recall the name that was on the top of the mausoleum. "it's the Thompsons'."

"They're not living enough to enjoy it anymore so it's become a community dwelling. Besides, more than 50% of the stuff in here is mine, so, yes it is my place."

Buffy shut her eyes and sighed helplessly. "You know, Spike, as much as I'd like to chat about property assessments right now, it's not what my intentions were for coming here."

"Oh, do tell then, Miss high and mightiness of the goody-goodies." Spike chanted with a sarcastic tone.

Buffy stared at him in disbelief. She smirked and shook her head back and forth. "You know, what was I thinking? You're still the same annoying headache and you will never change. And here I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt, even apologize for not giving you a chance to explain the circumstances of your lying to me. But I'm finished here. The law still stands Spike. Stay out of my sight."

She turned in a huff and walked towards the crypt door. Spike was stunned speechless. He took a step towards the retreating Slayer.

"Buffy?" he called her hoping she would stop. She did stop, but whirled around in disgust, pulling her backpack off in one swift movement.

"Here, I found this in the basement. I'm sure you'll want it back."

Spike's eyes widened and he gulped when he saw the familiar notebook in Buffy's hand. He suddenly became timid and slowly walked towards the proffered tablet. On a whim, she pulled it back and behind her. His outreached arm was left in midair as he glared at her.

"Buffy, please, may I have it back," he tried to sound polite, but it came out between gritted teeth.

"What's in it?" She asked, sounding curious.

"Nothing," his voice was void of any emotion as he lowered his arm back down to his side. Buffy noticed his hands were clenched and that he was getting upset. Why, she didn't know. She hadn't meant to tease him anymore.

"Are you sure? Cause I was sure there was some stuff written in here." She made to flip through the pages and noticed him move towards her quickly.

"Buffy, don't.----Please don't," the last words were barely a whisper.

She looked up at him and saw, what? Fear? Sadness? Embarrassment? She couldn't quite tell. She clutched the notebook to her tightly and took another step forward, standing only a few inches away from him now.

"I'll give it back to you if----if you read one of them."

Spike's mouth dropped open and he backpedaled a couple of steps, placing one hand on his hip, the other running through his already mussed hair as he turned away from her.

"You read it, didn't you?" he gruffily asked.

"Honestly? I read some of it." There was no teasing in her reply.

He couldn't stand there and take her honesty too well. Anger and bitterness rose up and choked him and he growled, grabbing a small table and throwing it up against the wall, shattering it into pieces. Buffy stared at him, non-plussed, allowing him some time to cool down.

"Are you finished? Because frankly, I'm not sure why you are in such an upheaval about it. It's really quite---nice. You write beautifully."

Spike slowly turned to look at her, disbelieving her remarks. But the look on her face told him otherwise. It astounded him. No one, not one person, human or demon, had told him such things. Not even Dru, who had been with him the longest. Of course no one really got the chance to read any of his works because he always had them hidden away in some secret, safe place.

"You---you think---you like them?" He was stuttering again, which he seemed to always do whenever the shyness appeared. He shook his head to try and clear his mind.

Buffy shook her head yes. "A couple of them even made me cry. Why do you seem so shocked?"

"I---I never let anyone read my poems. I---I'm not very good."

"Well, I know I'm no expert, but I think they are extraordinary. The emotions you put down on paper are so vivid. You wrote about someone, someone special to you it seemed like. I could tell---."

"Buffy, those were about you." There he did it. He let the cat out of the bag now. He felt like running into the dark corner and hiding his face from all, never to come back out. He looked away momentarily while she looked down at the book in her hand. She held it out to him one more time.

"Will you read the last one to me? I would really like to hear you read it." Buffy swore if he hadn't been a vampire, he would have blushed. He seemed flustered. She chuckled to herself. A Master vampire flustered.

A moment of silence passed, neither of them moving until Spike began to casually stroll towards her, reaching out and gently taking the notebook from her. He turned and walked to the sarcophagus and leaned against it while flipping through the pages, stopping on the very last one. He looked up at her once more before clearing his throat to read.

**"She's out of my grasp, out of my reach.

She dances in the darkness,

Twirling and swirling under the stars,

Playing with danger in the face of grace.

Dances in the dark all around me,

Yet she belongs to the light, the blinding but comforting light.

So far from where I belong.

I am profoundly in awe whilst left in my solitude knowing

She's out of my reach."

His voiced trailed off as he ended the reading. He hadn't noticed Buffy had moved from her standing position and was now seated across from him on the arm of his ragged chair. He slowly dropped his hands down and stole a quick glance at her but couldn't afford himself to stare at her for too long.

"That was---nice. Even better with you reading it. It had more meaning by you reading it. Thank you."

He released a breath he had been holding. "I'm sorry---sorry for lying, sorry for---for everything. I just---I don't know, I haven't felt like that in a long time. I realized how much I miss my family. Ever since they put this chip in my head, leashing this demon I carry, I've been so lost. Not knowing what to do, where to go. Buffy, will you believe me if I tell you I really want to help you?"

She looked away for a second before answering. "Yes, I think you do." She stood. "I think I know what you're wanting from me as well. It's undeniable that there were certain feeling stirred up recently. Will you understand if I tell you I'm not ready to have a second go at another unethical relationship at this time?"

Spike looked away sadly. She hurriedly continued. "I didn't say never. You've made me realize there is more to all this slaying business than good versus evil. You have more humanity in you than some humans I know. That's saying a lot. So, no, I'm not saying never. I just need time."

He smiled slightly as he turned to look back at her. "Yes, I do understand, and I can wait. It's not like I'm going anywhere, right? And here." He held his notebook out to her as she started to make her way out of the crypt.

"You take this. They were written for you, anyway. I want you to have it."

Buffy took it from him, staring at the royal blue cover a bit. "Thank you." She slid an arm around him, hugged him tenderly and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek before releasing her hold and walking towards the door.

"Patrol with me tonight?"

"You can count on me being there."

"I know I can."

She only opened the door slightly as to not let much sun in before leaving Spike alone to ponder the turn of events. The future was looking bright indeed.

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