Twenty-One: Something Else

By Annie

2003-04-16

****************************************************************************

Day Thirteen.

9.02 p.m.

He ignored her for nearly a minute, walking around and putting small flames to dance on more candles with his lighter in a firm grip. She watched him in silence, studied his wounds until she felt she would be able to clean them blindfolded, and because of that thought making herself look away from him. Stepping further into the room she stopped in the middle of the floor and once more turned her eyes on him just as he finished with the last candle and looked up to meet her gaze.

He looked mad. She couldn't tell why.

"Want me to leave?" she asked.

"No," he replied, though he didn't sound all that sure.

"'Cause I could," she stated and he cocked an eyebrow.

"If I wanted you to, I'm sure you'd stay right where you are now for the rest of the evening," he muttered and she put her hands at her hips in a protesting gesture.

"Maybe that's what YOU'D do," she then retorted and a small smile graced his lips at that, before she continued: "but we're not as alike as you seem to think. Do you want me to leave?" she repeated her question and he tucked the lighter into the pocket of his duster before letting the latter slip off his shoulders.

Throwing the leather over the back of an armchair - which she hadn't noticed before - he then had his eyes in hers once more, holding her gaze he then answered:

"No."

She nodded, turning from him to take a look around the place. The last time she had been there hadn't granted her the opportunity and now... Well, the cobwebs were gone. There was a fridge...

"How on earth did you get access to electricity?" she wondered, looking at him again and he shrugged, moving to sit down in the armchair - which was just about the only piece of furniture there except for a busted up TV - and with a tired grumble he rested his head back.

"I won't tell," he replied, closing his eyes and she looked at him for a few moments before approaching him. "If I told you, someday I'm sure you'd use it against me. Cut the bloody wire and leave me hanging..."

Her fingertips gently sliding around the cut on his forehead made him come to an abrupt halt in his accusations and he opened his eyes to look at her where she had taken a seat by his left arm. She met his gaze briefly, then moved her own up to what her hands were doing again and he was free to stare at her all he wanted.

"What are you...?" he began, but she cut him off with:

"Got a first-aid kit?"

"You've gotta be buggering..."

"Got-a-first-aid-kit?" she repeated and he tried not to gape before he put on an indifferent expression and gestured toward the sarcophagus.

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully and then got to her feet, moving up to the spot and getting the heavy lid off of it without any effort. Peeking inside she frowned at the ugly skeleton, decorated with scraps of decayed flesh.

"Was that supposed to be funny?" she asked, popping her head up to look over at the vamp.

"Underneath it, love," he merely replied and she followed that instruction, pulling the silk on which the skeleton lay aside and finding a small stash of belongings there.

She grabbed the tattered box with a red cross painted on top of it and then walked back up to the armchair, taking her previous seat on the left armrest.

"You know, this looks like it was saved from the grip of the second world war or something," she pointed out, grasping at the rough edges of the lid and prying it open carefully.

"What's to say it wasn't?" he pointed out, eyes yet again closed and head leaned back.

"Right, you were alive and kicking back then," she mumbled, smiling just a little as she added: "So to speak."

She began to rummage through the contents and then she got to her feet.

"Got water?" she wondered and he nodded.

"In the fridge," he said and she walked up to it, found the bottle and brought it back to him - along with a dusty kitchen towel; which she, to her own surprise, had found.

Soaking the cloth carefully she sat down again, leaning forward to see in the dim light she began to clean the blood off.

Her warmth was pressed against his shoulder, it seemed. Her scent intoxicating as it swiveled around his head and her closeness felt too near, and much too bare. Why was she even caring? What was she doing?

"Buffy," he mumbled, opening his eyes just as she moved the towel to the wound and he bit his jaws together at the thunderclap of pain.

"Don't tell me you're gonna complain," she said and at the actual tease in those words he grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the towel and moved it away from him, catching her gaze and holding it he looked up at her.

Her heart was picking up its pace. What answer was he trying to find? He looked at her in a way that made her think there had to be a question he was asking. But she'd already answered it - she did want him... She...

He let her wrist go and let his arm fall along his side again, tilting his head the fraction of an inch to one side as he watched her in a silence which expanded time and seemed to will it into slow motion. She had to break it.

"Why did they do this?" she asked, moving her hand back to its original position and dabbing the wound as gently as she could as she waited for his answer.

"What do you care?" he simply asked back and she thought that - behind the everlasting grouchiness - there seemed to be an actual query.

She didn't dwell on that, merely replied:

"It's my business - as the Slayer."

He suddenly smirked, giving her a sideway glance.

"Right. The heroine protects the helpless and the outcasts," he nodded, then rose to his feet and she sighed. "I'm neither," he added, voice growing cold and she swallowed.

"That's not what I said. Here's a shiny example of you putting words in my mouth," she remarked and he seemed to lose some of his assurance as he looked down at her. "Now sit... Please."

He hesitated, then grumbled and did as she requested.

"What I meant was: what goes on around me is my business - as the Slayer," she now elaborated her former sentence and he gave her a look as she reached into the box and brought out a small band-aid. "Now tell me - why did they do this?"

"Because of my sodding hobby of killing off demons, what the hell 'd you think?" he muttered, making a face as she pulled the wound closed before fastening the band-aid to keep it that way. "Seems I'm an involuntary bloody part of your little posse, pet," he added and she cocked an eyebrow.

"Something tells me you don't do anything 'involuntarily'," she retorted and at that a real smile split his face before he looked away from her.

Clearing his throat he got rid of the display of how right she was in assuming that, and then her fingers were under his chin, making him turn his head to her and tilt it back slightly so that she could have a look at his lip and nose.

"You'll heal," she stated and he raised his eyebrows.

"There was never any question of that," he replied and she removed her hand with a small nod.

She rose to her feet, seemed to give something a short dispatch of thought and then she turned to him again. Hesitantly she met his gaze and then she asked:

"If you only kill for the kill itself... where's the pleasure?"

He found himself rather stumped at that question.

"You've killed," he then slowly replied. "You know the feeling... The power. That overwhelming rush."

She looked at him, then shook her head slowly.

"No," she said. "I don't know the kind you're under 'cause when I kill, I kill with purpose. To save life, to preserve life... I have a cause. You kill because you feel like it, on a whim. Because that's your nature. Because it's your instinct."

"And your instinct isn't based on the kill?" he wondered. "On catching the prey and doing away with it?"

"But, Spike, you don't hunt anymore. You only kill," she remarked and under her gaze he found himself feeling small and ignorant. He didn't like it. "I can't understand that," she finished, turning from him and heading for the door.

"You trying to understand me, Slayer?" he asked quietly and she paused in the doorway, hand on the knob as she turned partially to him.

"Maybe I just think it's time you chose sides," she answered cryptically, continuing through the door and disappearing from view.

***

Day Fifteen.

9.27 p.m.

He hadn't seen her since she left his place two nights ago. And to be perfectly honest with himself - himself being the only creature he ever was completely honest with - he had been avoiding her to avoid her small demand; if that was how he should label it. He felt cornered now; surrounded by sky-high walls on all sides but one, and in that one - she stood; blocking his escape.

He didn't know what he should do to get around her. If he used violence she'd merely mirror it and they could fight forever, their strengths really were much too alike for an easy outcome to a declaration of battle. If he used his head she'd twist it - she already was doing just that - and he'd be swearing her his undying mark of a liaison between them by the end of the night.

He grumbled to himself as he walked across the sixth cemetery, headed for home. He was annoyed now. These thoughts of her had kept him in a moving emotional state for the past forty-eight hours and just when he thought he had found a missing piece of the puzzle it was snatched out of his hands and once more he was left fumbling for a new one. He absolutely detested this feeling of no control. And SHE was the cause of it, of course.

'When I kill, I kill with a purpose.'

Stupid sodding brainless bint!

He HAD a purpose, and the purpose was himself. He had killed for a hundred years, did she expect him to CHOOSE it away? Did she expect he HAD a choice in the sodding matter? He was evil, for crying out loud. And still she stood there, judging him and trying to make him come to a decision about HIS existence, which had functioned perfectly well until the cursed day he laid eyes on HER!

So, why had she said that? Did she believe that he'd actually join her? Did she really think that?

What's so funny? a voice remarked. You'd walk through fire for her and your scoffing at this? Seems YOU'RE the sodding brainless git in this scenario.

"Oh, shut the bloody hell up," he growled. "I don't HAVE a conscience so don't even buggering start!"

So what's that gray moving in the dark? What's that air of hope you seem to be set on living off of? What are you really hoping for...William?

He rammed his fist into a nearby tree trunk as he screamed for the feeling to go away, for the sense of slipping out of his own skin to get the hell away from him! This couldn't be happening. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. He couldn't change! How could he possibly change?!

And yet, something was. He was. Changing. What she had asked him, before the sentence which had left him so rattled, had gotten to him on a different level and he had had her voice echoing through his head as it kept repeating the question "If you only kill for the kill itself - where's the pleasure?". It was followed by her mumble of "I can't understand that."

He wanted her to understand. He needed it so badly it scared him. He had tried to find a good enough explanation, but the one he had given her when she asked him seemed to be the only one willing to present itself. It sounded so crass, so meaningless, so meek.

He didn't like the gray. He wanted it gone. He didn't like how it made him really feel and think over things that he had done; was going to do... He couldn't stand that gray twist of new inside of him, dancing slowly as it cradled his emotions related to her in its arms.

And another thought came to him as well.

She's stronger, it stated softly.

A thousand times stronger than you are.

She fights a fight that is that much more of a struggle than anything you've ever even imagined. And she's never had the choice.

He swallowed, turning his head as he heard a punch connect with bone covered with skin. Slowly making his way along a row of tombstones he stopped by three tall pines and tried to see through the branches.

Buffy.

She was winning; the vampire was already recoiling in the presence of her - as always - obvious determination, and most of all - power. Bringing out her stake she took a few more turns with the doomed creature before she sunk her weapon into its heart.

She straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, tucked her stake back in place and then turned to meet the bleached vampire's approving gaze. He took a step forward, trying not to look too admiring as he realized she must have felt him about the same time he did her. Paranormal senses were a bitch that way.

He had the insecurity loop itself around his heart as he for the first time ever felt anything remotely like it in her presence, and it made him even more uncomfortable. He didn't know what to say; wasn't sure what she wanted from him. What he wanted.

She was watching him - waiting for something, or hesitating just like him, which one of it it was he had no way to figure out.

And so they stood, in silence, before he noticed the streak in her eyes making him remark:

"You look tired."

"I'll live," she replied.

"I saw you last night, patrolling..." he began, biting his jaws together as her eyebrows rose questioningly. "I just mean that you've been doing a bleeding lotta that lately... Patrolling," he added and loathed the uncertainty in his voice.

She had caught herself just in time to prevent herself from asking him why he hadn't saw it fit to declare himself by means of a 'bloody awful night we're having, eh?' or a 'need any help with the Slaying I'll be over here watching for someone who might wanna jump in' or at least a 'hello, I hate you...now good-bye'...the sort of things he always threw in her face any chance he got.

"Yeah, well," she now merely sighed.

After their last encounter she had tried not to think about him, had fought to not read too much into what she had actually said to him right before leaving. Read things like her trying to ask for help, her actually wanting his help, her pretty much needing his help...and then again not really, did she? Not wanting to dig further into that her mind had stubbornly disobeyed and continued with: if you're not asking or wanting or needing his help...then why are you so hoping that he'll come to you with an answer that...

No.

Shuddering at the mere thought she had shut it off and out of her mind.

Seeing him now, however, made a small swirl of eagerness start up in the back of her somewhere, and she couldn't for the life of her understand where it was coming from. He had never proven himself worthy of any such thing. She couldn't trust him in any matter what so ever and if he DID offer his help he'd probably - in the end - just turn around and stab her in the back.

Because that's WHO HE IS, she told herself.

It was YOU who said that YOU DON'T KNOW HIM, that stubborn streak he had muttered about a few nights ago spoke up and she rolled her eyes at herself.

I know his type, that's all I need, she assured. He's so deep into the whole bad-ass act that he wouldn't know white from black. Tell a lie enough times eventually you'll come to believe it. He's been lying for over five times the amount of years I've been on this planet. Think those habits are just to shrug off? Please! He'll lie to me, cheat and steal and kill and he won't ever change. Nobody changes that easily and least of all HIM.

So stop hoping he will.

I'm not HOPING for anything here!

"Right, then," he said and she cocked an eyebrow.

"Where's the mouth you usually wear? It's trademarks are it being so very talkative, a necessity to be constantly beaten up and oh, yeah, the oh-so- fun NEVER shutting up when it really should..."

"I left it at home," he interrupted and she crossed her arms over her chest.

They were more than ten feet apart and yet she could almost feel his arms around her. She shook it off, all that was done with now. She had meant what she had said - she wanted all of it to be over. To her it was. She just might need his help...

No, you don't.

...on this ADAM thing!

Sometimes she really hated herself.

"Go get it," she now encouraged him. "I don't know what to say when you stand there all... I don't know what!"

"I'm not 'all'," he replied, slightly agitated. "And you're one to bloody talk."

She gave him a look at that, then her eyes moved to his forehead and her face grew less annoyed as she said:

"The cut's gone."

He lifted one hand to the spot in mere reflex, brushing his fingers over it before he smiled a little.

"Yeah..." he agreed.

They grew quiet again and he sighed, shaking his head before stating:

"It'd never work."

She glanced up at him, frowning quizzically though she had the most awful idea what he was referring to.

"You know it'd never work," he now added and she swallowed, then nodded slowly. "We're too..."

"Competitive," she filled in.

"Prone to the whole 'mortal enemies' bit - I was gonna say," he replied. "But that other thing too," he added and she looked away from him, the disappointment a fact she didn't want to face.

"You're right," she then concurred. "Too different."

"Too opposite."

"You know, YOU said that opposites attract," she remarked and at that he raised both eyebrows, making her grow extremely self-conscious before she added: "I'm just saying."

"Well, yes and no. What I said was opposites complete each other," he pointed out and she unfolded her arms as she met his gaze again. "And that was just a line," he added and her eyes grew slightly at that.

"If you're that good an actor..." she began, trailing off before she grumbled: "You're that good an actor."

He cocked an eyebrow, observing her face as it hardened slightly. Why was she even listening to him? Why was she standing here, discussing this with him?

"What can I say, love?" he asked silently. "That being with you had some profound impact on me?"

"Shut up," she murmured.

Why was he pushing her like this? He couldn't answer that for himself, he could only let himself do what he needed, do what he had to. This seemed to be it.

"It didn't," he continued, holding her eyes steadily. "Like I said - this'd never work. You and me. Day and night. Push and pull... Good and evil. Side by side?" he wondered, tilting his head slightly to one side before he finished: "You never really thought so, did you?"

She took a step back, feeling the anger with him sift through her soul.

"Then you go back to yours," she replied, voice laced with the emotion inside of her. "And I'll go back to mine. And the next time we meet, don't you even dare talk to me."

He watched her turn and leave.

There was his answer.

There was his bit of the puzzle practically tucked into his palm.

She had thought that he would; she had believed that he was going to choose the path of light - in spite of his own nature, his own instinct. She had believed that he was going to choose her.

Why?

**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ******************


Twenty-Two: Warrior to Warrior

By Annie

2003-04-20

****************************************************************************

Day Fifteen.

9. 46 p.m.

What was this tremble of surprise?

What was this murmur of objection?

What in the name of anything sacred was this clear disappointment all about?

She couldn't have thought that the fact of him actually saving her life, for a reason to which she still found herself standing in complete puzzlement, would automatically transform him from a devil into an angel. That one unselfish act would have him crave the taste so badly that it would have him turn from that bitter one of doing evil... God, she couldn't have thought that. Not even the tiniest part of her could have believed that!

She couldn't... she just couldn't have hoped for it.

She swiped at the tears pooling in her eyes from the anger burning in her heart. At whom it was directed she couldn't tell and the fact that there was so much these days that came out a blurred bit of some sort of emotion had her feel exhausted and even more infuriated.

Confusion was a tiring companion - always one step ahead and dragging her along in its wake, desperate to catch up to it and try to cling to it, solve it, but always coming out the shaken looser.

An alliance? With that? With something that would slaughter them all in their sleep if he only was free of his bonds? Had she seriously thought it?

No.

Now that she gave it a very close look she discarded the implication that she ever had. Pushed it away, as so many other things related to him... That. Darn.

So why had he stepped in the other night? Why?! Why had he saved her? He had successfully convinced her that all he wanted was her dead - and some play in between the eye-for-an-eye and the stake-to-heart-fangs-to-neck bit. And now? What did he want? What did HE want? What did he really want?

He was so frustrating that she just wanted to...!

Scream. Cry it out. Beat it out of herself. Yes, all of those. But...she couldn't do any of them. Something held her back, and a large part of her was grateful. Grateful that the feelings stirred was somehow kept down, hushed and tucked away. She couldn't deal. It was like she had two animals within her, fighting a terrible battle and now and then she got scratched from the inside. She twitched, but didn't show it.

So what should she do? What could she do? Go to him, talk with him, reason with him?

She wanted to laugh.

There was no reasoning with THAT! He said SHE was stubborn? He truly was a riot. And his brain was too small for that distasteful excuse for a head he had between his shoulders, that was for sure. Just thinking about him made her want to...!

Take deep breaths, Buffy, she instructed calmingly. Deep, deep breaths.

And she did, coming to a stop and wrapping her arms around herself she bowed her head and closed her eyes - concentrating on the inhaling, exhaling formula.

Why couldn't he have let her die?

He would've spared her this. Spared her the constant struggle with these questions circling and circling. They never grew bored in their tormenting of her. How she hated them. How she hated this whole situation.

If they only hadn't been trapped in that basement this wouldn't have happened. It never would've come to this. Now the trap was slammed shut around her even though their prison had been taken away and she couldn't find her way out of it.

Perhaps that's because you need HIS help, something pointed out and she grumbled, opening her eyes and tilting her head back to look up at the sky.

No, I'm not going anywhere near him, she huffed, getting herself moving again. I can't do this anymore. It's breaking me in half... And I can't figure out why I...

Oh. Please.

"I won't listen to myself!" she muttered.

Slowing down once more as she reached a small playground and walked onto it. She could almost sense the children's laughter, the happy moments experienced in that very spot - now it lay deserted, abandoned.

"But never forgotten," she mumbled as she slid one finger over the cool steel of the swing-set.

She closed her eyes again and leaned forward, putting her forehead against the place she had just touched and then moved her head to rest her cheek there.

It was like a constant ache had been produced right beneath her skin from his fingertips as they slid over it, and now it called out for his touch, his caress... Her whole body longed, whispered to her, wanted her to forget everything else but what she knew she needed. Forget duties, forget what everybody else would think, forget the rumbling warning in the back of her head and just obey him, listen to the echo of his voice that she kept hearing in her mind - and give in.

She pushed away and stood straight, opening her eyes and shaking her head.

That's not how the world works, she told herself. You don't think there would be repercussions? Spike is not something you want crawling around in your bed. So let it go. Right now. Drop it and walk away. Do you hear?!

She did, and she turned to prove that she did - beginning to walk again.

He didn't want her. Not really. Just as she didn't really want him. Not all of him...

But there is no 'all', it's almost ironic how he actually just stated that himself! He has no soul, Buffy. No soul, just a demon in there. A demon! And...

"I know!" she exclaimed, running her hands through her hair. "He's nothing but a host," she mumbled, drawing a deep breath again. "His human form is nothing but a host."

***

10.14 p.m.

The end of the line.

Dead by the end of the week.

That was how he had felt not very long ago and now...

He huffed, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a mouthful of whiskey before he sunk back in the armchair of his crypt. If he had only done way with her when he had the chance perhaps it never would've come to this. If something had pushed him on and he had taken her down, killed her - maybe this numbness inside would've died away with her. This maddening longing for her that had him on the third bottle for the evening.

Then he would've been somewhere with Dru - as happy as that crazy bird ever made him and without any of the war going on inside of him. He would've been sure of who he was, and he never would've had to...

But he wasn't.

No, he didn't care that he had thrown her headfirst out of his reality, out of his world. What she was beginning to do to him - it wasn't right. It was something only she would have the warped mind to ever think of doing and...it wasn't right. He wouldn't try to pretend for her. Why should he pretend to be something he never would be again?

Human.

He closed his eyes.

No, let her be happy with her little soldier boy. Let her have kiddies. Let her be alive. Let her be.

He suddenly chuckled to himself, reaching up a hand and catching the tear that had somehow escaped his left eye. Bringing his index finger to rest before his eyes he shook his head to himself - still smirking.

"Bloody enough of this," he muttered, putting the bottle down at his feet and then rising.

He needed to get his mind off of her.

So, to the Bronze it was.

***

10.38 p.m.

She watched the crowd move. The rhythm didn't capture her, merely heightened her concentration as she could feel the hunger surrounding her. The sexual yearnings of couples grinding on the dance floor, the methodical search for an easy target from those predators stalking the room. She had already pinpointed three of them, but she knew there were two more. Soon she spotted one and she shook her head to herself.

She had been doing this gig for what - four years now? And they still couldn't get passed the me-hungry-me-need-food stage to actually THINK before going out hunting on a turf so familiar to her. Well, not that she was complaining. Only went to show exactly how big of morons these beings actually were.

Tingles traveled up her spine and she frowned as she turned her head to try and see him through the crowd. What was he doing there tonight of all nights? She had come here because she had been close to certain that this would be the last place he'd visit. Very close to almost certain, anyways. Well, there was her proof. She had no way of foretelling exactly how he thought, so how would she be able to trust him? Ever.

Back to that again? You think he's here looking for you? Remember how your last encounter ended?

Why was it that whenever she threw a final, very heavy and harsh good-bye- forever line she seemed to forget about it in an hour or so?

Her eyes caught the shape of one of the vamps walking off with a won victim.

"Time to reclaim it," she murmured, following as the two exited the Bronze through the back door.

Stepping outside she brought out her stake, her gaze falling on the vampire about to sink teeth into flesh.

"Hey!" Buffy said and it looked up with a jerk of the head. "You sure she kisses on the first date?" she added and her opponent shoved the girl away from it before it squared its shoulders.

"Slayer," it grumbled.

"Ah, got the talk," she nodded, taking a step forward as she added: "Let's see if you got the walk."

It lashed out and she sidestepped it, putting her elbow in the nape of its neck and having it down on its knees.

"Sorry to make this short," she apologized dryly, kicking her foot up and hitting its chin - making it fall backwards onto the ground, "but I can feel company closing in."

She raised her arm and was about to bring it down when a strong hand grabbed her wrist and, in the surprise of the feeling, it was able to flip her over a muscular shoulder. She hit the asphalt with a low thud and bumped her head so hard that she saw stars. Blinking she quickly re-grouped and got to her feet.

What is this - Slayer-takes-a-beating week?! she muttered in her mind as she turned around and faced the large vampire, it being the clear cause of the growing lump in the back of her head.

"That's my brother," it said, pointing to the first vamp now rising to its feet and Buffy tilted her head slightly to one side as she blinked.

"Really?" she asked. "Meet my associate," she then shot, pointing to the stake in her right hand and the vamp raised its eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Come on, princess," it merely taunted. "I think you can give me a better introduction than that."

She gave it a look and then took the challenge. Moving forward she kicked her leg out, hit the "brother" vamp over the nose as she went - wanting to keep it out of the game for at least a little while - and then her foot connected with big brother's chest. It took three steps back and then caught her arm as she moved it forward, once more grasping her wrist in a tight grip its yellow eyes met hers and she stared at the burning fury and triumph in those orbs before it yelled:

"Now!"

She just turned her head when something hard connected with her neck and the black came swiveling around her as she felt her control over her own limbs slowly slip away from her.

"We heard about what our brother nearly managed to do to you the other night," she heard the vampire's voice hiss as its arms moved around her, holding her up. "Air - sucha big part of your world, sucha triviality when you're dead. I'll strangle you nice and slow, princess. Revenge for what you did to Merv."

"She didn't do a sodding thing to 'Merv'," Buffy now heard an angel sent voice reply and she felt her whole body start to fall back on auto pilot as it deemed itself safe.

The following was nothing but a mess. She hit the ground again; this time she came to lie on her side, and she began to come to just a few seconds later though her head wouldn't let her see straight for another fifteen of those. Once she felt her strength had returned she rolled over onto her back and turned her head to see Spike kick the big brother demon in the side of the head. She blinked, swallowed, then got to her feet.

There were two more, seemingly standing down for the time being. Cowards.

Suddenly two hands grabbed her upper arms and pulled them back behind her. She frowned, tried to throw her head back so that she could fend the vampire off, failed and instead decided on raw violence. Moving her right leg back and around the vampire's leg she turned around fast, getting herself out of its grip before bringing it to the ground by swiping its legs out from under it.

No time for punning, reaching out she grabbed a conveniently nearby lying and broken off piece of wood - since she couldn't spot her own stake anywhere - and then rammed it through the demon's heart.

Turning from the cloud of dust she moved up to where Spike was still fighting big brother and made eye contact with one of the other two. They both shared a glance and then moved around the bleached and the big to confront her.

She took the blow of the first, ducked as it tried to deliver a second and then put the wood through its chest. The baffled expression on its face made her shake her head at it. Then she was suddenly pushed to the ground with such force that she wasn't sure she didn't break anything. Her ribs sent out flashes of pain as she practically hit the asphalt with them first, to then go sliding a few feet on top of that.

She swirled around onto her back just as big brother towered over her.

Her mind screaming "Where's Spike?" and her heart going a thousand beats per second as the hostile vampire leaned forward, its eyes still bearing the glow of anger and disgust.

"You will die, Slayer," it hissed.

Then it let hear a growl of pain before it disintegrated into ashes as well.

"But not tonight," Spike said, eyes on the remains of his kill before he slowly lowered them into hers.

She tried to calm her breathing, but that had been close. Again. And the adrenaline let her know just how hard she had just fought for her life. And again...if he hadn't... She furrowed her brow, looking up at him questioningly.

He bit his jaws together, then moved his left hand forward and reached her stake out to her.

She moved her gaze out of his to rest it on her weapon. Slowly she then moved her left hand to take it and as she did she turned her eyes to meet his again, her expression once more wondering. He offered his right hand to her and she hesitated, then put her own in his and with his help she pulled herself to her feet.

They eyed each other in tight silence for a long minute and then he asked:

"Dare I?"

She cocked an eyebrow.

"You said if I even DARED to sodding talk to you..." he murmured and she interrupted him with:

"I know what I said."

He observed her again and she did the same.

"I thought YOU said it wouldn't work," she then remarked and he nodded.

"I'm bloody right too," he replied. "It really won't."

"Thought you agreed that we're too resentful towards one another for this to EVER work," she continued and he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I don't trust you," she stated and he smirked, bringing out a cigarette and placing it in one corner of his mouth before producing a flame with his lighter, which he had also retrieved.

"You think I bloody trust YOU, love?" he retorted and she gave him a look.

"Without trust... how can we have a relationship?" she asked and once more he arched one eyebrow, putting the lighter back in his duster as his smirk widened slightly and she rolled her eyes at him. "I mean - a partnership," she corrected, only that made the smirk grow into a meaningful grin and she glared at him. "Shut up," she muttered and he snickered, taking the fag from its place and exhaling the smoke slowly as he watched her.

"Not saying a buggering thing," he then assured. "But I think you'd better talk, pet," he added and she raised her eyebrows. "What's this side- choosing thing, and why now? For YOU to want ME on YOUR bloody team..."

"Hey, I never said I WANTED you on my team," she disagreed and he tilted his head to one side, making her cross her arms over her chest before he continued:

"I bet you have a sodding mind-blowing reason."

For just a split second he could have sworn her gaze graced his lips, but then it was in his again and she nodded.

"I do. I just don't feel like discussing that out here," she replied and he looked around them before giving her a quizzical look.

"Not comfy enough for you?" he inquired teasingly and she gave him an impatient scowl which had him smirking again. "Okay, so you wanna go back inside? Share a pint? Talk strategy?" he added and she shook her head at him.

"This isn't going to be easy on you, you know?" she asked and now he let his eyebrows rise as he looked at her. "You'll answer to me, you do realize that, don't you?"

"I'll answer to ME," he stated. "You'll just get to listen in on what I'm spilling."

She eyed him and then sighed, turning from him and beginning to walk out of the alley. He followed.

"This will never work," she muttered.

"That IS what we've been saying, yeah," he nodded, coming up to stroll by her side.

"I'm crazy. What am I thinking?!" she grumbled, shaking her head again and he smiled slightly.

"Fight-big-sodding-threat-thing-and-come-out-standing?" he then wondered and she stopped, turning to him. "Or...only-with-a-limp-at-least?" he tried and she bit her jaws together hard not to let herself actually smile over that.

"You listen," she then said. "I don't like this any more than you do, so let's make it easy for the both of us. I'll contact you when I need information, and the rest of the time we'll just stay the hell away from each other."

Turning she took a step forward, then stopped herself and turned back to him.

"And by the way - what the hell is this saving-my-life business all about?!" she demanded and his eyes grew a bit round at that.

"Rather be dead then?" he wondered, face extremely serious and voice extremely understanding and she wanted to stomp down hard on his toes just to make him understand that she needed him to listen and not come with these idiotic inputs.

"Twice!" she exclaimed and he smiled a little, throwing the stump of what was left of the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with one booted heel before saying:

"I guess being with you had some sorta profound impact on me."

She closed her eyes, but he could still see the twitch in either corner of her mouth and his own smile widened at the sight.

"Buffy," he then said and she opened her eyes again. "You have to tell me everything. And I'm officially at bloody war with the demonic world as of now - so even if there is no trust there'd better be some sorta code of sodding honor or whatever between us from this moment on..."

She met his gaze for a few moments, held it, and then nodded slowly.

"Warrior to warrior," she said, reaching out her right hand and he grabbed it around the wrist with his own, having her do the same to him.

"Warrior to warrior," he murmured with a small nod.

**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ******************


Twenty-three: On the Surface

By Annie

2003-04-21

****************************************************************************

Day Sixteen.

11.38 p.m.

"Buffy!" Spike yelled and she turned around just as the second last standing vampire of the nest the Slayer and the Vamp had been cleaning out attacked.

Spike put his fist to the jaw of the last of the vamps and glanced over at Buffy to see how she chose to meet her opponent.

She ducked, put a hook of her right hand into its stomach, straightened her back as it tried to recoil and caught it by the neck. Pulling her arm back before moving it forward she pushed the vampire hard and made it fly six feet into the facing wall of the condemned building.

She brought her stake out at the exact same time Spike did and they shared a brief look before they took care of business.

She had to admit that she was amazed over how well they actually fought together. The efficiency with which the patrolling had gone by during the evening had been truly astounding, and he had helped her in more ways than one. She very reluctantly admitted to the fact of his presence sort of putting her own concentration on its tip - since she didn't want him to be able to gloat at being faster or better in any way.

Childish? Did she know it!

But she simply couldn't shake the thought of how much more experience he had over her, what skill didn't he possess? Watching him fight was pure art, and she had seen her share of violence to be able to tell the difference between accuracy and mere punching. She was no amateur, no rookie, and she was able to hold her own... Still she could feel the spoken competitiveness hanging in the air between them and it spurred her on.

Actually - it was kind of fun. Though that she didn't admit.

Now they faced each other and she looked around the empty room. Five vamps had been taken down, three girls had been saved, a nest had been destroyed, and Spike had been right there through the whole ordeal.

She turned her eyes in his, a smile splitting her face which had a shiver of scurrying pleasure run up his spine to branch out over his shoulders. He had never seen that expression on her face around him before.

"Good fight," she commended, nodding as she took another look around the room. "Good fight."

He smirked, observing her for a few seconds.

They had had a rather short talk the night before. Short simply because there wasn't much she had to tell him about this Adam character - and once she had told him what there was to know she had seemed very eager to get going. He hadn't wanted to stop her. How exactly they had come to patrol together was an entirely different matter.

The information about the nest had pretty much fallen into his lap - after a few well-wasted dollars on the blabber-mouth of Willy - and so he couldn't very well keep the information from the Slayer, now could he? No, 'cause that'd be backing out of their agreement. So, he had happened to stumble across her as she left the dorm for that nights "taking a stroll with sharp objects tucked into every pocket", and he had SHARED the information with her, as agreed.

Why the bleeding hell she had pretty much told him to tag along he had no sodding clue to - but he had obliged. Probably she had wanted him to because she wanted to make sure it wasn't a trap of some sort... Well, here they were. No trap in sight. And they had just finished their first fight - together.

"Guess THIS part of the whole partnership thing just might work after all," she remarked, smile still on as she caught her breath - her chest heaving heavily.

His smirk widened and the clear glitter in the corners of his eyes made her blink and then square her shoulders as she started toward the door. Stopping in the doorway she turned back to him, giving him a meaningful look as she gestured for him to follow, saying:

"Come on - time's a wasting."

He watched her disappear out into the hallway and then let the smirk rip into a wide smile. Suppressing the low chuckle wanting to rise he then slowly followed. He really disliked the fact - but her side, bathing in her light... might actually have its share of his kind of good. He had this sickening need to grin whenever he looked at her and he felt like an idiot! Still, the way she made him feel... it was undeniable. It frightened him to the core, yet a large part was tentatively embracing it. There was no use doing anything else, he supposed - though another part of him cried for mercy, told that this just was not fair.

"So," he now said, leaning against the doorpost as he could rest his eyes on her again. "Where to now?"

She turned to him, raising her eyebrows.

"You letting me lead?" she wondered, fake-surprise in her tone and he smirked again.

"I am but a humble observer of your every-night activities," he replied with a small bow of the head and she smiled again, though this time it was tentative and she removed her gaze from his as she seemingly grew self- conscious.

"All right," she mumbled. "It's mostly walking."

"So lets walk," he said, moving out of the doorway and passed her - giving her a look as he went and she hesitated.

There was something else hanging there along with the competitiveness, and she didn't even dare look at it. It was too strange a feeling. To have him this close, on arm's length, and still not want to pull her hair out with irritation or claw his eyes out or something! It was still and quiet - the annoyance.

Soon it will reveal its ugly head, she assured herself as she followed him out through the broken front door of the building. There is no way he won't say SOMETHING to get on my nerves.

They began to walk across the short stretch of lawn leading to the sidewalk. Reaching the latter they kept moving down the street. She glanced at him, he glanced back and they faced forward again.

"Haven't seen soldier boy around for a while. Something rocking the love boat?" he broke the silence and she rolled her eyes.

Here's ugly.

"Can't you just for once refrain from asking me about my personal life?" she inquired and he made a clicking noise with his tongue as he shook his head.

"Oh," he then merely said and she stopped, putting her hands at her hips and her eyes growing into a WHAT?!-expression that made him tilt his head slightly to one side. "Nothing. Just... Did he jump ship? Was it your fault? I dunno if you know this about yourself, love, but you can be pretty bloody demanding. I wouldn't blame him if he bailed."

Her fist connected with his cheek and his head bopped to the side. He moved his jaw as he straightened his posture again.

"You wanna catch a glimpse of the inside of me you'll have to carve me open with a 'very dull knife'," she shot and he arched his scarred eyebrow.

"Good memory," he muttered and she smiled sourly before turning from him and picking up the walking again. "Nice night we're having, ain't it?" he asked as he followed, coming up to keep her pace at her side. "The stars are out... Moon too. I wonder if..."

"He's sick, okay?" she interrupted, aggravated. "He's with the Initiative. They're taking care of him... They're telling me he's doing fine, so..."

She trailed off and Spike watched her face closely for a few seconds before he frowned slightly.

"You're not worried?" he asked and she turned her head to meet his gaze, both of them coming to a slow stop.

"I've seen these guys in action," she replied. "They may be something else than what they want me to believe - but when it comes to one of their own they take care of him. No matter what, I'm sure that Riley's safe down there. And they'll make him well again."

"Mh, to come back up and join with you," Spike said and she stared into that blueness of his eyes thinking she could see a twitch of something in it.

The moment passed, he turned from her and they started walking again. Their pace was down to a very slow stroll, but neither one of them really seemed aware of that.

Spike wanted to beat back the annoyance he felt with the sodding git. He wished he could've gotten rid of him once and for all - but then another voice spoke louder, saying that had he done that he would have alienated himself from Buffy for all time.

"Oh, I didn't tell you!" she suddenly said and he raised his eyebrows, looking at her again. "That thing in your head - it's a chip."

He furrowed his brow now.

"A bloody whatta?" he asked and a small smile graced her lips as she nodded.

"Exactly. It's a 'sophisticated piece of modern science designed to control the behavior patterns of H.S.T's' - that'd be you - 'and render them harmless as little pussycats, making them want to leapleapleap through fields of daffodils singing songs of happiness and joy for everyone'," she answered and his eyes had been widening from the first sentence, now he gave her a look and she smirked. "Okay, so that last part was kinda my edition."

"Funny, Slayer," he muttered. "So... a chip. Great. That should be easier than a heavy duty sodding spell on my neck. I'll just go down there and make them take it the bleeding hell out."

As he made as though he was going to follow up on that statement straight away she grabbed the leather of his duster and made him halt.

"Woah there," she said, making him face her. "Right now we're more or less at silent war with those guys in the same way we're at loud and bang-y war with the demons... Though I've always been that, but you know what I mean. You can't go down there, smart-ass, 'cause they'll just catch you and put you in a cage. Now, is that what you want?"

"Oh, don't sound so bloody cocky," he grumbled and she let him go, suppressing the smile at his grouchiness.

"For now we'll concentrate on Adam," she replied.

"Fine," he muttered.

"You know, if you really wanna do this with me then I can't STAND this negative attitude. You need to change it straight away or I'll have to send you home," she remarked and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Am I 'with' you, then?" he asked and she swallowed hard.

"Well, that wasn't really how I meant to... In a way I guess that... How I phrased it wasn't like that... It sounded different in my head," she stuttered and he smiled a small smile.

"Really? How did it sound in your head?" he wondered and she glared at him, making the smile broaden slightly. "So, when IS soldier boy back on his feet and in the game?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Soon, I hope. Why are YOU so interested?"

"No reason really. I was just wondering if he'd take too bloody kindly to me and you spending quality time together, that's all," he answered her and she raised her eyebrows.

"I wouldn't call it quality time," she disagreed and he smirked at that.

"Then what would you call it?"

"Do you ALWAYS reply to an answer with that answer as a question?" she asked, irritated, and he tilted his head to one side as he nodded.

"Always," he assured and she tried to make her smile as sarcastic as possible as she couldn't hold it back anymore.

They turned onto a different street and she wanted to change the subject, but wasn't sure to which subject she was willing to jump.

"Perhaps," she spoke now, "we should just not say anything at all. Keep the focus on the job at hand and all that?" she added and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Right, 'cause you always keep your mouth shut while you're in the middle of a sodding slay and so keeping it even more tightly closed BEFORE one should just really help your bloody concentration," he nodded and the irony in his voice made her give him a look to just take the thought to heart and be quiet.

They both were, for about thirty seconds - and then Buffy said:

"It's not like I do speeches while I slay."

Spike smirked and rolled his eyes at her. How had he been able to know that this would be coming, sooner than later?

"I didn't say you did," he replied.

"And it's not like they seem to mind it," she continued and at that his smirk widened considerably.

"So, if one of the vamps stopped the fight and said 'Bloody hell, Slayer, I do believe your constant yapping is getting on my about-to-be-no-more nerves. Could you put a buggering sock in it and let me die in peace?' - then you'd do as it asked?" he inquired and her eyebrows rose slightly.

Then she shrugged.

"I dunno," she answered him. "That's never happened."

"I'll get the word out," he promised and she looked up at him. "Or would that be in bloody violation of the contract?" he added at the questioning look in her eyes and she shook her head.

"No... And there IS no contract," she replied and he observed her for a few seconds before he asked:

"What ARE the terms, really? You were kinda fuzzy on those last night."

She stopped and he did as well, facing her and waiting for her to answer him.

Buffy wasn't entirely sure what to tell him. It had all happened so suddenly... One hour they had been screaming good-bye and the next they had been shaking hands on trying something else on for a while.

This.

It was very strange to look at him and not feel like she needed to fret over what he was planning. She knew she couldn't just relax around him, if she ever would be able to, and still her instincts told her that he hadn't saved her life just for show. It made her ask the question she had been repeating the day before: what did he want? What did he want with her?

Perhaps this WAS part of some master plan...

No. It really was so weird, but those thoughts were simply shut down right before they gained any real wind in their sails. There was a new feeling to him that she couldn't put her finger on... but she could sense it.

So...the terms. The terms for this. What were they?

"I just don't want you to play both sides," she slowly stated and he arched his scarred eyebrow as he rested his eyes in hers. "I don't wanna find out, when all's said and done, that you acted like some sorta spy for Adam..."

"You won't," he reassured and something slowly twirled in the pit of her stomach as he held her gaze.

He almost wanted to add a "trust me", but refrained since he knew it would do him no good. She would never trust him. He seemed to be constantly torn in two these days where one part pointed out: why the hell should he bind himself to her when she so clearly was waiting for him to screw it up? And the other part replied: why the bloody hell should he screw it up, if that was so clearly what she was waiting for?

A very huge chunk of him still refused to see that he was becoming someone else, slowly but surely, and this chunk of him kept sending a devil to sit on his shoulder and whisper of all the fun things he could do if he just let himself go again. The angel on his opposite shoulder was tiny, and its voice was squeaky, but it was there and it was defiant. It told him to trust what he knew was resting within his heart now. His love for the girl before him was going to be his burden and his wings - the angel promised.

He had always wanted to fly, ever since he was a young boy running up and down the cobble stone streets of London - so, was he going to throw his one chance at that away?

Suddenly his hand moved on its own and reached up to gently grace her left cheek with its touch. Her eyes grew slightly.

She had been trying to read whatever he was thinking in his gaze. He had seemed so lost in his own musings that she wished she had that spell to read minds so that she could've read his. Though she wouldn't have been able to, she realized. She couldn't read Angel's, now could she? But the way the two blue eyes, which were still holding hers relentlessly, were growing into an expression she had never seen in them before made her heart begin to race as she stared into them.

Warmth.

And then his touch, soft against her cheek as his fingers lightly brushed into the nearby locks of blonde by her face. His thumb gliding slowly over her skin and she blinked, frowning. Wondering what he thought he was doing and then with a pang something emerged from the far corners of her memory banks.

Her voice saying 'I'm in love'.

And his stating 'So am I'.

She had trouble breathing. Taking a step back and away from his hand she turned from him and took yet another few steps out of his closest vicinity. That dream... It couldn't have been a Slayer dream. WHY would she have a Slayer dream about something so personal? Or not personal per say, Spike wasn't "personal", he was... He was just...

"Buffy," he mumbled and she clenched her jaws together as she turned back to him.

"Another term?" she wondered and he looked at her, quizzical. "If we need a no-touching-what-so-ever term then I'll throw it in there without any hesitation," she elaborated and he watched her face, her eyes and the not so calm expression in them.

"Buffy," he repeated and she shook her head.

"I mean it," she said and he smiled a very small smile.

"No, you don't," he replied and she swallowed.

"What do you want?" she finally spoke the question out loud. "What do you want from me?"

He hesitated. His mind processing the different facets of this situation and then choosing one of the easier ones as he answered with:

"Nothing less than what you want from me."

Then make me, her mind whispered. Then make me be in your arms 'cause I've been freezing ever since I left them behind.

"I want your skill, I want your fists and I want your whole mind put into the battle we're in the middle of," she replied, though her voice wavered and he could hear it very well. "Nothing else," she then added and he nodded slowly.

"Then that's what you'll have," he replied.

She ignored the tug to walk back up to him, she brushed aside the whirl of emotions set in motion by one measly little caress and then she turned from him to start the walking again.

Just tell him that he should cover another part of town, she told herself. Just split the two of you up!

But - she didn't.

**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ******************
 

Next