My darling readers, here comes another letter from the author –

As I have spent so many years in the shop that holds fanfiction I feel I know my way around rather well. I can walk up to a shelf and dig out a piece I might not have looked twice at had I not seen a speck of cold on its cover, a treasure that might have been lost had I not noticed it. This has absolutely nothing to do with any sort of introduction to this piece of fiction, I only want to say thank you to all of those who have seen a speck of gold (or was it dust) in the stories I’ve so far contributed to this site and our community. I owe you a great deal of gratitude and I feel it especially strongly when I am about to post something new, because you give me hope that even though a speck of gold might be lacking, it still has a chance to be noticed by you. I tried to paint this whole cover in silver... we’ll see where that gets me.

This story is one that I’ve had in my head for quite some time. It started out as a very short, short story and I thought it would be a one chapter deal, but as it is it’s actually humming along quite nicely. We’ll see what you think.

The story is set at the end of S4 – after the episode of Who Are You.

I find myself pulled to S4 when writing mid-season fiction because I think the Slayer/Vamp relationship is so formidable in it. Also, there’s a lot to play with. Now, for anyone who is still waiting for their DVD Box Set or for the episodes from S4 to appear as reruns on TV and thus are inclined to shy away from spoilers – I urge you – shy away from this.

If you’re hardcore about Buffy you’ve already seen and you already know pretty much everything there is to know and thus – I urge you – need me, need me, say that you need me!

Kidding.

Here’s a recap of exactly where we’re at as this story unfolds:

In Who Are You Faith has taken over Buffy’s body. I’m sure the Spuffy fans have watched this episode about a thousand times because – even though Faith’s soul is the one doing it – it still is a pretty sizzling moment with the Vamp actually wanting the Slayer for the first time. They’re at the Bronze and Buffy (Faith) bumps into him after dancing. She soon realizes exactly who he is and gives him a pretty interesting speech of how she’s a stuck-up with no sense of fun and he, stumped, agrees that that’s a big part of why he hates her. She says she could be anything she wants, have anything and that that includes him. She totally seduces him in that moment and he would have kissed her, only she breaks away with a contented smile, leaving him glaring in her direction to then smash the beer bottle in his hand. Sorta frustrated, I’d say. ;)

Alright, in the story you have before you on the screen and are hopefully about to read the first chapter of, Buffy makes a wish that has pretty dire consequences – mostly for her. I’d tell you more, only I don’t wanna ruin the fun. Hah.

Thanks all and I humbly hope thou shalt enjoy.

Annie.

¤

When She Was Younger

¤

All We Did Was Some Dancing

¤

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t even acknowledge her as he merely kept prodding in the dirt with one booted foot. A surge of the regular annoyance and disgust she felt whenever she rested her eyes on his form poured through her and she crossed her arms over her chest, thinking she would follow his lead of silence and simply stare him down.

It was a little harder, she had to admit, to focus that Slayer glare on the leather clad back of him instead of his eyes; but she would suffice. After a minute of complete stillness, which had him seemingly entirely absorbed in whatever the heck he was doing, all that she got for her effort was him changing the foot which was digging into the soil.

She unfolded her arms with an aggravated sigh and was just about to turn and leave when he said:

“I’m looking for something.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“If you don’t stop asking questions,” he replied, still not looking at her but squatting down by the place he was searching and beginning to use one hand’s fingers instead as he finished: “I’ll start to think you’re actually interested.”

“Well, if you’re looking for some sort of herb or gem or any other item fit for spell-use – I am interested,” she stated simply.

“Then rest assured,” he muttered, rising and finally turning to face her, brushing the dirt off his hand as his gaze met hers. “It’s not here,” he added.

She eyed him in unveiled suspicion for a few moments and then shrugged.

“Good,” she said, beginning to walk passed him. “If you find it, let me know.”

She wondered why she always tensed when she was closer to him than three feet. Passing him and continuing on her way she had a picture in her mind how he reached out and pulled her back. Then she shook her head, cleared the picture and had one of getting hit over the head with something very heavy immerge in its stead.

¤

“What’s on your mind?” Willow asked an hour later when she and Buffy were both sitting on the latter’s bed.

The Slayer grumbled, sinking down further against her pillows and pulling the covers up before she answered:

“Just... stuff. You know? A lotta it.”

Willow frowned.

“Like Riley it?”

“No, it’s more... shop related,” Buffy murmured, unable to disguise her increasing bad mood. “I think... the vamps are up to something.”

“The vamps?” Willow inquired, incredulous.

“The... vamp,” Buffy admitted reluctantly.

“As in singular?”

“As in Spike.”

“Ah.”

“He’s planning something.”

“Buffy, that vampire suffers from a serious case of delusions of grandeur, okay? The moment he’s not planning something I swear the Hellmouth will freeze over and your powers of good will no longer be needed.”

Buffy smirked.

“Swear?” she then wondered and Willow smiled back.

“Cross my heart.”

“Right,” Buffy nodded, still her concentration wandered and Willow sat back with a huff.

“Let it go, Buff,” she encouraged. “There’s nothing you can do about it anyway, right? Unless you wanna head out there again and just confront him about it.”

¤

“Ouch! What the bloody...!” he spat, glaring down at the petite blonde pinning him to a large tombstone, which he a moment earlier merely had happened to be strolling passed. “What the hell did I do now! Glance around in the wrong way!”

She squinted as a reply and then let him go, taking a step back and watching him correct the collar of his duster before looking at her.

“Twice in one night? Ain’t I the lucky one?” he said.

Her face didn’t move a muscle.

“I smell trouble,” he sighed and she blinked.

“You’re around yourself every day, all day long – thought you’d be used to the stench by now.”

“Wow, was that an uppercut or one of those mean rights ‘cause I’m completely numb and somehow I didn’t see that coming.”

“That was my tongue,” she answered and she noticed a strange switch in his expression, in his gaze and even his body stance, but as she furrowed her brow all of it vanished and a smirk took its place. “But if you need a reminder of what the other two feel like...” she added and he tilted his head slightly to one side, a sudden fire in his eyes which almost begged her to do it.

God, he was such a masochist. And such a cliché. And such a constant pain in her ass because of it that she truly wanted to take a swing at him and let the frustration out. A good bruise might actually do him good! But, no. She pushed the conviction away.

Masochist, she repeated. Takes pleasure in Self-mutilation. And not-only-Self-mutilation.

Suddenly she shivered. He was probably thinking about what he could do to her if only he didn’t have the chip in his head. She looked away from him, trying to remember what had driven her to actually go in search of him in the first place.

“What are you up to?” she then asked and he actually looked bewildered at the question, the cockiness for once dropping away.

“I’m heading to the Bronze,” he answered tentatively. “Thought I’d grab a beer... some saucy wings...”

“I didn’t mean ‘what are you up to’ as in ‘hey, what’s up, tell me ‘bout your evening’ – I mean it as in what is that devious little brain of yours plotting right now?” she cut him off and his attitude was in the next instant firmly in place as he unabashed looked her over from head to foot.

She merely rolled her eyes and he smirked again.

“Slayer,” he taunted, shaking his head. “Are you so daft as to actually bloody believe I’d feel obliged to tell you anything?”

“Since you were just about to map out your future plans for the night...” she trailed off and his gaze turned hard before he clenched his jaws together, no smile in sight. “Tell me what you were looking for earlier and I won’t chain you to a tree.”

“Cover me in honey and hum for a bee?” he retorted, suddenly approaching her in the sleek way that was his and she gave him a disgusted stare, disbelieving the nerve he actually had.

“I’d hum for a billion bees if it’d only shut you up,” she shot. “But, alas, I know it wouldn’t.”

He circled her and she frowned, wondering what in the world he thought he was doing. Then he stopped, an inch from her and looked down at her with a superiority which made every cell in her be on alert. For some reason her heart was pumping just a fraction harder, but she met his gaze without flinching.

“The other night...” he said and she frowned again. “You don’t remember any of it... do you?”

Now she full-out stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, glancing down at how close he was and then up again, making it clear that he should really step back – or she’d be forced to make him.

He raised his eyebrows, then took a small step away from her as he observed her intently.

“Right,” he nodded. “I heard something about... your body being rented out. Another slayer, even. Guess that explains it.”

Her mouth was growing dry and her heart beat was heavier than ever before as she tried to get her thoughts back straight in order to ask him exactly what the hell he was saying. What had Faith done? She had slept with Riley. Had she...?

Oh, God.

“Stop,” Buffy instructed as she noticed Spike was already walking away from her. “Would you mind explaining?”

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he then replied before continuing on his way.

She stood paralyzed for another second and then she ran after him.

“Hey!” she yelled and he looked to the skies before turning back to her.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, looking at her with a suggestion in his eyes which she didn’t care too much for. “Look, we... did a little dancing, yeah? Actually – you did most of it. Shocked the bleeding bat outta me, but now I get it. She sure as hell wasn’t you.”

Buffy stared at his back as he once again began to walk away from her. She hated the very tiny sense of rejection the vainer part of her pushed to the surface. It was absolutely unthinkable that even that tiny part would offer any kind of care as to what that bleach-head thought of her, but the sting still produced a powerful enough feeling of spite in her that she yelled:

“I bet you’d ‘ve loved if it’d been me.”

That stopped him dead and he slowly turned to face her.

“You should learn never to bet on a sure lose,” he said dryly and she felt blood color her cheeks burning red before she stalked up to him.

“Then you should try not putting your money where your mouth is!” she said, pausing as his countenance confirmed that that statement made absolutely no sense.

“You’re not offended, are you?” he asked, voice smooth as silk and she felt the burning irritation begin to twist and smoke someplace very near her heart.

“You asked me to marry you,” was the only response she could think of.

“And you gladly consented!” he reminded, which had her step down and take a breath.

“Okay. Fine. It’s just that... Faith took over every aspect of my life. She fooled my friends, my boyfriend! Even my mom! And now... I don’t know. I feel like I’m still partially outta my skin, I guess...”

“Yeah?” Spike asked, bringing out a smoke and putting it in the corner of his mouth before taking out his lighter; putting a glow at the tip of the preferred drug he flipped the lighter shut and took a long drag. Blowing out the smoke he added: “Is Red off friend-duty tonight? Did you need to bend an unwilling ear with all these absolutely bloody fascinating tidbits of personal turmoil simply ‘cause you were bored or...?”

“No,” she answered, her tone frosty. “I want to know what you were looking for earlier,” she repeated her previous demand and he took another inhale of smoke before he blew it out in a long, gray mist.

“This,” he said, holding up the silver lighter still in one hand. “I dropped it, and then – I found it. Now bugger off.”

“Gladly.”

They turned and walked in opposite direction, but after a few steps Buffy halted and swiveled around, calling after him:

“You’re not telling me the truth, are you!”

“I swear on my un-beating heart, pet – all we did was some dancing!”

¤

“Buffy, calm down!”

“The thought of her sleeping with Riley is... OH! But the thought of my body in the hands of that... that...” she was so upset that she was shaking all over, even her voice was trembling as she trampled the floor of the dorm room. “I can’t breathe!” Buffy exclaimed, sinking down on the edge of her bed and leaning forward, drawing in deep gulps of air.

Willow’s hand soon slid comfortingly across her back and Buffy blinked the tears out of her eyes as she sat back up to look straight at her friend.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she insisted. “All the time there’s this struggle. Every single day! And... it’ll never stop. Unless I get myself killed in the process! Again! And all the time there’s these screwed up situations that I have to deal with. On top of which my own boyfriend couldn’t tell that it wasn’t me he was making love to... For all I know he thought she was better than me! Spike sure seemed to.”

“Buffy...”

But she wouldn’t listen, and she couldn’t slow down.

“I don’t give a damn what he thinks, that’s not what I mean. But it got me thinking. About a lotta things. And know what I came up with? My life really sucks big time, most of the time. Not the parts where I have my friends, or my mom – but this whole damn slaying of the guilty and hunting down the soulless is just... God! Sometimes I wish I could go back to what it was like before all this happened! You know? When there were no lurking shadows, no need to stay up late just to catch the bad guy, no worries. Just... boys and gossip and... bubblegum. I miss bubblegum. I just wish that for an hour, or a day, or one week I could be fifteen again!”

She seemed to quiet after that, growing thoughtful as she looked down at her hands and Willow watched her empathically.

“I’m sure we all have wished that, more than once, even... But...”

“Let’s not, Wills,” Buffy interrupted wearily. “Let’s not try and list all the good things about Mongroy slime on my new shoes or Spasmwheat on my new coat or vampire dust in my hair, okay? I just... wanna forget about it for a while.”

She lay down and Willow rose, walking over to her own bed and climbing in.

“Night,” she mumbled.

“Night,” Buffy yawned back, crawling under her covers and gently drifting off to sleep.

¤

“Calor, her wish was expressed out of despair and confusion. You cannot tamper with...”

“Spare me, Ath. I’ll grant her wish. I’ll show her what she would have wanted had she been fifteen and had she not seen what she has seen. Perhaps then she will learn to value the destiny bestowed upon her.”

“The girl is hurting. It is part of her growth. Humans do this, you know that. They go through things and they come out of them...better.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Cale, do not toy with her.”

“She’s the slayer, Ath. She can take it. She asked for it.”

“She did not ask for this.”

“I am not in control of her actions... Everything that happens will be her doing. What was it you said? She’ll go through this experience and come out of it – better.”

“Don’t come to me when the Powers demand your head on a plate.”

“Have I ever?”

¤

“Buffy? Buffy!”

“Just ten more minutes, mom.”

“Buffy!”

“Okay, okay!” One hand was stretched out from under the covers. “I’m up!”

But the covers were yanked off of her and she blinked, rolling over on her back before sitting up, trying to fight off the grogginess as she took in the girl before her. She looked... old. And what was this room all about? Where in the heck was she! And...

“I have to say – not amused!” she stated, scrambling to her feet and backing away from the stranger.

Willow stared at her.

“Look, if you wanted me to wake you up you should’ve told me,” she tried. “I’m sorry, okay. But, it’s almost ten-thirty and I was getting... worried. Are you alright?”

“I’m...um... I’m... No, I’m not alright,” Buffy answered, her arms around herself as she stood with her back against the wall. “I’m not sure... where I am, or who you are and I’m pretty sure that my mom would’ve woken me up by now if I was home and so... seeing that I’m not at home. I’m somewhere. And I don’t know where that is, or who you are and I’m freaking out just a little here!”

Willow struggled to take all the ramblings in and then she collected herself. Either Buffy was pulling some sort of prank... or... What she had to do was ask the right questions.

“Buffy...”

“Yeah, like that – right there. How do you know my name, huh?”

“Well, we’re... friends. You’ve had an... accident. You lost... parts of your memory from the... accident and I need you to tell me... what the last thing is that you actually can remember,” Willow said, voice calm and soothing as she put her backpack down on the floor.

Buffy seemed to relax just a little, but her eyes grew wide.

“I’m suffering from ambrosia?” she asked and Willow had to bite her lower lip hard in order to keep from laughing.

“Amnesia,” she corrected and Buffy smirked sheepishly.

“Right,” she nodded, having another look around the room before she asked: “So, what sort of accident did I have?”

“You... tripped.”

“Oh. Was I like taken care of by some really hot ambulance guy? ‘Cause that would’ve been like so totally sweet. Of course, that’s a part that I can’t remember,” she sighed, finally venturing out from the wall and casually walking up to her own desk.

“Yeah,” Willow said, not wanting to sound too confused. “So, can you tell me about what you last recollect?”

“What I DO remember and stuff?” Buffy asked, turning around and leaning against the desk. Getting a small nod from Willow she continued: “I was going on a date with Andy... Oh, my God! Have you seen him? He is sooo cute.” Receiving a look from Willow she smartened up and smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Well, I was going on a date with Andy... tonight. He asked me out in front of half the school and I was SO happy that he did. I mean, it could’ve been just to make sure I’d say yes, but I think he knew I would, so he just wanted to show off – which means he REALLY likes me.”

“Okay!” Willow interrupted, then put on a smile and walked up to her friend. “I need you to give me some simple specifics. How old are you? Where do you live?”

Buffy frowned.

“You’re pretty weird, aren’t you?”

“I’m quirky,” Willow corrected, semi-offended.

Then she shook it off, remembering the situation looming before her.

“Whatever,” Buffy said. “I turned fifteen... one month ago, I guess... or, have I been out long?” Willow shook her head, her heart sinking in her chest. “Thank God! And I live in Los Angeles. California. In the United Sta-...”

“I got it!” Willow once more stopped her. “Thank you. Please, take a seat. I just have to... make a call.”

¤

Careful What You Wish For

¤

“Talk about ‘Be careful what you wish for’,” Xander stated half an hour later.

Willow had, after a few long minutes of weighing the pros and cons, decided to ditch school since the emergency at hand urgently called for it, and had brought Buffy to Giles’ apartment. For the past fifteen minutes a careful interrogation had been conducted by Giles and as he had just joined Willow and Xander in the living room they had also been able to share in the good news. Which were that Buffy was absolutely fine. The thing that was a little negative was that she was the “fine” she had been four years ago.

“She responds excellently to everything and listens... well, Buffy never really listens intently, but she seems to understand that something is going on that is out of her control and that we’re here to help her. I tried to explain to her that she might look a little older than she thinks she is, but that she shouldn’t worry about it,” Giles said and Xander nodded.

“Good. That should buy us some time, right? To get to the bottom of this?”

“Yes,” Giles agreed and Willow watched his tense face for a few moments before she asked the ominous question:

“How bad is it?”

“Well...” Giles replied, taking off his glasses and thoughtfully polishing them as he added: “I simply don’t know where to start. I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“So, what should we do?” Xander wondered after a tight silence.

“Act as though all is normal. Those beings that know she is the Slayer mustn’t have even the slightest doubt that she is at full capacity.”

“Well, that should be easy...” Xander said with faked enthusiasm.

“What about Riley? Shouldn’t he know?” Willow asked.

“Yes, certainly. Try to get a hold of him,” Giles agreed.

“I will. Trouble is there’s been so much going on with the Initiative lately... I’ll try,” Willow ensured.

“Okay. Who’s on Buffy duty tonight?” Xander inquired.

¤

Buffy looked at her reflection with growing eyes. She looked so... grown up. Just like that Willow girl.

I look like I’m in college, at least! she thought to herself, not being able to contain the smile spreading across her lips.

This could turn out to be the best totally freakish thing ever.

¤

“What did I do with all my short skirts! And what’s with all the bland! Where are the colors?”

Willow sat stumped on her bed, watching Buffy tear through her own closet at hurricane speed.

“I think you gave up anything too bright back in... A while back. This school is a little bit more... refined.”

“Hah! I’d say restrained,” Buffy commented, diving out of the wardrobe and onto her bed with her arms full of clothes. “But I’m pretty sure I remember the last edition of Cosmo... I’m sure I can whip something tasty out of this mess,” she added optimistically as she began to rifle through the heap.

“I’m really not sure it’s a good idea for us to go out tonight,” Willow said for the tenth time, but Buffy merely laughed.

“Come on! You can’t expect me to look like I’m twenty-one and not be able to try and play the part, can you?” she replied and Willow made an effort to not look unhappy as she pointed out:

“You’re only nineteen.”

“Yes, but I didn’t say I was twenty-one, I said I look twenty-one,” Buffy replied, holding up a small top and smirking. “Perfectamente.”

Willow rolled her eyes.

“Buffy,” she reprimanded, but Buffy merely smiled brightly before walking up to the full length mirror to have a peek.

“I’m gonna enjoy myself, Willow. I’m missing the biggest, most important date of my life. You owe me some fun.”

“That’s what’s bothering me,” Willow muttered.

“Oh, don’t be all sulky and mood-bringer-down-y!” Buffy exclaimed. “Put something nice on and have a blast yourself!”

Willow smiled as well, not able to resist as she could see the obvious excitement on her friend’s face. There had been no luck in the Riley search, and Willow couldn’t decide whether she should tell the younger version of the Slayer that she was committed to someone, or if this might actually turn out to be another freak-factor. Perhaps if she didn’t say anything just for tonight. For all she knew Riley might show at the Bronze.

¤

“Hi!” Buffy smiled brightly at the young bartender and Willow felt like pulling her hair out as she could hear Xander’s voice in her head repeating the words “Buffy duty” over and over again.

This was proving to be a challenge.

“Why, hello, there,” the bartender winked back and Willow decided to cut in.

“We’ll have two club sodas...”

“Oh, don’t be boring, Willow!”

“...and that’s it!” Willow finished with a look of death at her friend and Buffy seemed to shrink back in defeat before she turned around and took in the crowd – her eyes immediately beginning to gleam again.

“This place is happening! Look at all the little cuties!” she yelled over the music which had just started up.

“Yeah – let’s not,” Willow disagreed, feeling the need to get it through the teen’s thick skull that this was not what she thought it was; and that she wasn’t free to do whatever she pleased. Suddenly Willow’s gaze landed on Riley. Finally, something going right. “I’ll be right back!” she said. “Stay!” she added with a finger in Buffy’s face, and the latter gave her a disliking frown before watching the Wicca jump off her stool and head for some guy.

Buffy observed as Willow began talking, and she saw the guy’s face turn extremely solemn as he listened closely. The Slayer lost interest the next moment. Her eyes wandered across the room and then stopped as they fastened on broad shoulders... black... leather... There was something... Something she couldn’t really put her finger on, but...

“Buffy?”

She turned her eyes in Willow’s for a second to acknowledge her, but then had them back on the spot where the other guy had been. He was gone.

Damn!

“What?” she asked, looking back at the redhead.

“There’s something I have to tell you...”

¤

Buffy felt awkward, glancing at the person next to her on the sofa. Riley. Her boyfriend. Great. Did anything make sense anymore? Had she been warped into a different universe, somehow? Or... was she dreaming? She’d never had such a lucid dream before...

And what was she supposed to do now? Get engaged! She might as well, she’d never felt so tied down as in this moment. And what about Andy! No, never mind Andy – what about all the others just waiting out there, somewhere. Was she supposed to just not look at them, at all!

Okay, Buffy, she reprimanded herself. Some part of you has to remember this guy.

She took his profile in. He was very handsome, she concluded. Cute. The poster boy for Wholesome American. He had most probably grown up in a sheltered and safe environment, folks who loved him, a dog named Rascal or something not far from it. Riley and Rascal. Made sense. And now he’d come to the “big” city to live it up.

Oh, dear God, I cannot do this, she thought. Please, don’t let him hate me. Well, not the other me, at least.

“Look...” she said, having Riley turn his gaze in hers with a small smile on. “I’m sure you’re a nice guy and everything, I mean, I must have some reason to like you, right?” The smile faded. “But this, right now... it’s just not gonna work out, for me. Okay? I’m so sorry...”

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

“So am I,” he said. “I guess I’m getting used to this. But I hope they get you back to... yourself... soon,” he then grumbled, getting to his feet and leaving.

She sat back and closed her eyes, scared that she’d just done something irreversible. Then she drew a small breath and rose as well. She almost turned and walked the other way when she saw Willow approaching her, but she knew that no matter how overbearing the girl was she wanted what was best for her. Surely she would see that having a boyfriend would totally ruin any attempt at having a good time.

“Why did he leave?” Willow asked.

“Well, I... sorta broke up with him,” Buffy shrugged and Willow’s eyes grew unimaginably round before she grabbed the other’s arm and pulled her aside.

“You love Riley! Now march after him and get him back here!”

“Take it easy! Jeez!” Buffy replied. “Maybe at one time the other me loved Riley... but now I’m me and I wanna be able to look around, you know? Shake it up. I’m not ready for a relationship. I haven’t even started dating yet!”

“No, you haven’t – but the other you, the actual you... I mean, not that you’re not real, but... Buffy! Listen to me. You can’t stir up this kind of trouble! Pretty soon you’ll be back to how you were, and so will everything else, okay? The reality you think is real isn’t really real, and when you realize that then you might be able to help me help you before you... Buffy? Are you hearing me?”

Buffy bit her lower lip as she glanced over Willow’s shoulder. The form of the man she had spotted before had returned. She swallowed as she stared at him leaning over the pool table and thrusting the cue forward with perfect aim. She couldn’t see his face, which was bugging her.

Come on, she thought. Just a quick look over here...

She got more than she bargained for as he straightened his back and in the next moment turned his head her way. She tried not to look caught as he casually leaned against the cue, holding her gaze. A small smile began to play on her lips, but an air of sudden caution seemed to slip over him as he didn’t return it.

“Who’s that?” she now asked Willow – not exactly expecting the other to possess an actual answer.

Willow turned to look in the direction the Slayer was looking.

“Spike!” she exclaimed, grabbing one of Buffy’s wrists and, this time, dragging her with her across the room to said vampire.

“You know him! And ‘Spike’? What kind of a name is...?” Buffy began to ask, but interrupted herself when they stopped before the man in question.

“Red,” he said with a slight nod. “Slayer,” he added, eyes back in Buffy’s and she stared at him, feeling a shiver of unexpected pleasure creep its way up her spine.

He knew her.

Then she blinked, forcing her gaze out of his and to Willow as she asked:

“Slayer?”

Willow flashed her a smile, not answering as she addressed Spike.

“I need a favor.”

“A what now?” he asked, putting the cue away and grabbing a half-finished beer off the end of the pool table.

“A favor, Spike. You should know what that is. We grant you one pretty much every single time we see you,” she replied and he smirked, cocking an eyebrow and glancing at the Slayer, who was behaving mighty odd this evening.

“Cut to the kill,” he said, taking a swig of his beer and swallowing as he shrugged off the blonde’s insistent study of him.

“I have to go. Just for a little while – something’s come up and Xander needs me to help him,” Willow answered, as well as she explained to Buffy, who was looking both nervous and eager – something which unsettled the Wicca even more. “Buffy can’t... I mean, she doesn’t want to come with me ‘cause... she’s been working so hard and she has to...”

“Why are you telling me this?” he interrupted and she sought out the best explanation at hand as she answered:

“Something happened last night which has her a bit out of the loop. I need you to make sure that she stays here ‘til I get back.”

He smiled.

“Why the bleeding hell should I do anything for you?”

“I’ll pay you,” she replied firmly.

His eyes glinted with interest, then he looked at Buffy again and shook his head a little.

“I dunno if I can put up with her for more than five minutes,” he stated and the Slayer looked clearly insulted at that, Willow saw that her mouth was about to fire back and she cut in with:

“You don’t even have to talk to her. She’ll keep herself happy... I’m sure. Just don’t let her leave with any... seedy guys, get what I mean?”

Now he stared at her.

“No,” he answered and she ground her teeth together.

Xander had come by ten minutes ago with a flushed countenance telling her just how much he and Giles needed another hand in the patrolling they were conducting. She had to leave, but if Buffy came it would be a disaster! Leaving her with Spike was in some ways even more of a gamble, but the choice had already been made. Willow didn’t have time to debate it anymore.

“Vampires,” she gritted out meaningfully to clarify her earlier request and Spike cocked an eyebrow, making her roll her eyes.

“I’m not sure I get...” Buffy started, but Spike held up a hand.

“Stay! Dance!” Willow said, before he had a chance to put up any more protests. “You don’t wanna leave anyways, do you? Buffy – Spike. Spike – Buffy,” she finished incredibly quickly and yet not escaping making Spike’s eyebrows rise high at the introduction. “There. Have fun and I’ll be back in... as soon as I can! Gotta run!”

And in a whirl she was gone.

Buffy stood feeling rather lost as to what she should do now. He was obviously older, he obviously knew more about her than she did about him, and she felt completely out of place. The fact that his piercing blue eyes seemed to see right into her to in the next moment look straight through her didn’t help. Not one bit.

She couldn’t remember the last time a guy hadn’t actually liked her pretty much instantly. She was a cheerleader, she was smart enough and she always dressed in the latest fashion. She was appealing, popular and came in a perfectly neat little package – what sixteen-year old wouldn’t just die to be in her good graces? Only, this... man was no sixteen year old boy. He looked at her as though he detested her, and still...

He ran his gaze over her shape one last time before he brought out a smoke and with a huff he turned, walking away.

She clenched her jaws together in irritation. With herself. Naturally she had to go chasing the most entrancing prey of the whole place. She was such an idiot!

“Wanna dance?”

She looked at the boy standing to her right, his hand held out and a friendly smile on his face. He was her age – well, the age she looked – and he was in her taste and so she returned the smile, took his hand and let him guide her onto the dance floor. They easily slipped into the groove and she discovered to her content that he wasn’t half bad as a dancer. She moved closer to him and smiled, this time to herself. Yeah, this was how she’d always pictured herself when she got older.

Free, happy and having the time of her life.

Spike moved along the outer swell of the crowd, not able to keep from reminiscing the first time he ever laid eyes on her. This girl close enough to touch, this girl that made him feel the hunter within him stronger than ever. It had wanted her then, as it did now. Wanted to drink her up and toss her away as though she didn’t matter. Wanted to be rid of her, once and for all. And with her, everything that she stood for. Wipe that satisfied grin off her face and have terror in her green eyes right before she realized that what she was up against was nothing less than her doom. And he would swallow every last drop of her, feel the high of a Slayer’s blood once again flowing through every speck of him. He would relish and linger and cross out that number three which still stood waiting in the back of his mind.

She eluded him, and it got to him more than anything. It scratched his fragile nerves and how he hated to see her enjoying herself. She should be frightened, huddled in a corner, imprisoned by him. She should be hating him, not pitying him. This goddamn chip!

He growled silently, turning from the sight of her and walking up to the bar.

She made him feel like an animal in need of raw flesh. She drove him well to the brink of sanity and he wasn’t sure he could take it much longer and yet he was tied to her and her moronic friends because of her imbecile of a boyfriend.

This. Goddamn. Chip.

He swallowed the whiskey which was set before him in one swift gulp and closed his eyes in aggravation. He had to cross her out.

Looking to his right he watched as she left the dance floor, the guy in faithful tow and he huffed again. Bloody fool. Couldn’t he see that she was no good? She was a killer, a murderer, a creature of the night. Fighting urges which that measly human could never possibly begin to understand... Urges to destroy. Destroy whatever this vampire had left. Destroy his very will. She would never be able to. He smirked. She could try, but he would never surrender to her – like everyone else did. God! Just looking at her made him want to...

The sentence hung unfinished as he caught her back disappearing through the back door.

“Oh... bloody hell,” he breathed, sliding off the stool and quickly making his way up to the place of her exit.

He slipped through the door silently and could hear her voice.

“What?” she said, giggling.

“Come here...” a male voice entreated. “I wanna tell you something.”

“That’s my cue,” Spike muttered to himself, quickly making his way into the alley.

Buffy was positioned against a brick wall, the guy she had been dancing with leaning into her, and as she saw Spike emerge over the other’s shoulder her eyes grew questioning; then agitated. The guy noticed, turning his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Do you mind?” he asked, the query not halting Spike’s deliberate approach in the least.

“Actually,” he replied as he stopped by them before reaching out a hand and grabbing the neck of the younger. “I do,” he added, pulling the latter back and then throwing him to slide on the asphalt.

“What the...!” Buffy yelped, staring at the scene.

“Leave,” Spike commanded the now rising other. “Right now, or I’ll bleeding well rip your not-ripe teeth out of your mouth,” he added and the fledgling turned and commenced running for its life.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you psycho! I’m outta here!” Buffy exploded, heading for the door; but one strong hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” he burst out in retort and she was rendered breathless at the pure fury in his gaze. “What was that? A new slaying tactic, huh? No, you better tell me precisely what the bleeding hell’s going on here!”

“Alright, just stop yelling!” she shouted, tearing loose. For a moment she hesitated, musing over whether this was a good idea, but then she figured there was nothing else to do and so she said: “...I’ve lost my memory, okay? That Willow girl told me that I had some kinda accident and I can’t remember anything. Or, sorta.”

“You ‘sorta’ can’t remember anything?” he asked, disbelieving and she gave him an irritated glare which was the first form of recognizable trait he’d seen on her all evening.

“It’s complicated, okay? Ask Willow, she’ll tell you all about it. I hardly get half of it myself. Other than I look older but feel younger, or something,” she stated and he looked confused. “Well, according to Will I’m nineteen – only I don’t remember it.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh,” he said, “and how old do you remember being?”

She looked at him for a few seconds, then replied:

“Fifteen.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Spike broke into roaring laughter. He laughed so hard he nearly toppled over and Buffy felt her face gain heat the more he did so. Finally he dried the tears from his eyes and straightened his posture, still wearing a wide smirk on his mouth which she wasn’t sure whether she liked, or absolutely detested.

“Let me see if I can get this straight,” he said. “You’ve somehow gotten yourself back to being bloody fifteen? You don’t remember... anything in between fifteen and... now? Nothing at all? You don’t know who I am?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. “But I wish you wouldn’t find it this amusing. To me, it’s totally creepy. I mean, she has to be somewhere else. We can’t be the exact same person, right? I mean, if I’m here now, where did the me who’s not here go? And where’s the me who’s supposed to be going out with Andy right now? Did I stop existing where I came from? Or is the older me there right now, screwing things up as much as I am here?”

“Alright, calm down, Slayer.”

“And that – why do you call me that? I can’t even describe how disturbing it sounds and I kinda wish you wouldn’t,” she mumbled, feeling a sudden chill travel over her shoulders and she wrapped her arms around her waist, huddling slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. Was she joking? But it fit too nicely with every unusual thing she’d done throughout the evening. And would the actual Slayer refuse a clear slay? Bate the hook and then not do away with the catch? Only to play mind tricks on an enemy? On him? No. And there was the fact of Willow actually asking him to look out for her.

And what the hell had he just done?

Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. There she was. Alive. When she could have been very much dead. Good going, Spike. No money in the world could have greater worth than her out of his bloody path once and for all. The Wicca was crazy to think that she could buy his protection of the wench.

“Good luck getting home,” he smirked, turning abruptly and heading out of the alley.

Buffy watched him leave, looked around at the desolate place he had left her, and then hurriedly got herself moving in his footsteps. As she came up to walk at his side he halted.

“What are you doing?” he demanded and she smiled with fake-shyness.

“I thought...”

“Go back in there,” he said. “Don’t worry, love, you’ll be perfectly safe. Have a gay old time and wait for the posse to come pick you up, okay. Trot along now.”

But she merely followed as he picked up his pace again and he grumbled.

“If you don’t get the sod back there I’ll...”

“Why did you spend all that energy back there to save me, if you don’t even like me?” she stopped him and he struggled in vain to find an answer, and so he merely gritted his teeth and kept his gaze locked on something ahead of them. “You’re pretty strong, by the way. You threw that guy like he was made out of air. It was pretty cool, actually.”

He discarded the small twirl of satisfaction at that acknowledgement, and ignored her utterly.

“Oh, I get it. You’re that detached dude that never says a word unless he has to. Okay. Guess I’ll have to do all of the talking then.”

“Look!” he stopped her, turning to face her and she wore a completely innocent expression which he had until that moment not seen on her.

It perplexed him and made him forget the very liable argument he had been about to present as to why they would both be better off if she just went back to the club.

“I’m looking,” she said and the softness in her eyes caught him off guard. “I just wanna ask you something and then I’ll go, okay?” she then added and he nodded without being aware of making the movement. “If I shouldn’t leave that place with the guy I find the most... interesting, then who should I leave with?”

He blinked, mesmerized by the gentle shifting of color in her irises, and the carefully occurring tug within him to take her with him wherever she wanted to go.

Then he realized exactly what she was doing. Dru had been an expert at it. She was seducing him with sweetness and falsehoods and he would have none of it!

“You should leave with the one who gives a damn,” he replied to her question and she looked surprised, which made him feel that much better. “Maybe these little tricks work on those college... sorry, high-school boys you want to carry your books for you. But in the real world, honey, that little smile of yours is worth about as much as it looks. Run back to your own crowd... Buffy. Believe me, when you come out of whatever the hell you’re under you’ll wanna snap your own bloody neck for ever saying that to me.”

As he turned and walked away from her for the third time she didn’t follow. She was too shocked to.

The fact that her charms hadn’t worked on him for a second was enough to shake her to her very socks. But that he had been so aware of it had a churning need start up in the pit of her stomach.

“Buffy!” Xander’s voice sounded from behind her and he, Giles and Willow came swiftly toward her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she smiled. “I’ve had a total blast. Think I’ve even seen the beginning of a wonderful friendship,” she added as they began to walk back toward the Bronze, the last statement having Willow and Xander exchange a very worried look.

¤

All the Right Things

¤

“Buffy?” Willow asked as they were both lying in their beds, lights out and sleep prominent – at least for the blonde.

“Hmh?” she mumbled.

“I promise we’ll do our best to help you,” Willow said and Buffy opened her eyes, looking up at the shadow cast ceiling.

“Why do I get this feeling like there’s something you’re not telling me?” she inquired and there was a long silence before Willow countered:

“What do you wanna know?”

“What’s the history here?” Buffy wondered, turning over on the side to look over at her friend. “Why am I in Sunnydale – forlorn and godforsaken wasteland of Small Town? Why didn’t I apply to a good college – if not for anything else, then for getting the hell away from here? How did I ever stumble over such a someone as Riley and how come I’m obviously completely overlooking the unpolished gem of this Spike – who’s got serious issues, by the way?”

Willow let the statement sink in before she thought “first thing’s first” and began answering the string of questions with:

“Well, your mom and you moved away from Los Angeles because of the... violence. Sunnydale is... well, we don’t have as much of the same violence. You almost went to another college, but then you chose to stay here... because of friends and family and things. And Riley is a wonderful, fun guy who really likes the you that’s supposed to be here,” she stated, adding: “And the you that’s supposed to be here really likes him back. As for Spike... I know he’s got issues, believe me. And you should stay away from him.”

“Why? You left me with him.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t something... I wouldn’t have unless it was important, and...”

“Why didn’t you even ask if I wanted to go with you?” Buffy interrupted. “You obviously don’t think I’m able to take care of myself, and then you leave me with someone who... Yeah, what’s so bad about him anyway? He did what you asked...”

“He did what I asked ‘cause I promised him money for it.”

“And why did you feel the need to do that?”

“Because he wouldn’t have kept an eye on you unless I did.”

“So you admit you don’t think I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not sure if you know what ‘taking care of’ really means,” Willow replied and Buffy propped her head up in one hand, leaning on her elbow and as she looked over at the other she suddenly realized that she could see everything in the room as though it was bathed in a soft light.

She furrowed her brow, checking the lamps on both of the bedside tables and concluding that they had to be switched off. Very weird.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she then reacted to Willow’s statement.

“Trust me, you don’t want to have anything to do with Spike. He may have his moments, but he’s no... unpolished gem! In the end he’ll turn on you and he’d sell you to the highest bidder without a second thought. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone but himself, Buffy. Never forget that.”

Buffy lay down again, almost carefully as thoughts were running wild in her head.

“How did I meet him?” she asked.

“Let’s save it for another night, okay?” Willow merely said.

“Okay,” Buffy murmured, closing her eyes but unable to shake the look in two blue eyes as they followed her into her dreams.

¤

The next morning Buffy found a note from Willow taped to her closet door. It read:

“I called you in sick today, so don’t look too perky if you go outside. Your mom asked that you’d call her. Here’s the number...”

Buffy jumped up and retrieved the phone straight away, dialing the number and waiting with rising anxiety.

“Summers residence.”

“Mom?”

“Buffy! Are you alright? Mr. Giles told me that you... How are you, sweetheart?”

Buffy felt her eyes well up with unexpected tears as she sat down on the edge of her bed. She felt smaller and more alone than ever before and wished more than anything that this crazed adventure would prove over very soon.

“I’m okay,” she said, voice streaked with her confusion. “I’m just... a little lost. But I’m alright.”

“Really? I can only imagine what an ordeal it must’ve been to wake up in a strange place with strange people... I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“No, it’s not your fault! You didn’t know,” Buffy disagreed. “And they’ve been nice to me. They’ve treated me good.”

“Of course they have, they’re your friends! Listen to Willow, Buffy, she’s very smart and she loves you. She’ll look after you. Or would you rather I came and saw you?”

“I don’t think that’s...” A thought suddenly occurred and Buffy trailed off, regarding it and then saying: “Or maybe... Maybe I should come home for a while? I can’t go to class anyway, and I can’t exactly move around freely on campus if Willow insists on me putting on the being-sick-act.”

“I’ll come get you right now, okay?” Joyce asked and Buffy smiled.

“Sure, mom.”

Joyce gave a location for them to meet and they hung up. Buffy began to pack a small bag of necessities and was just finishing up when she happened to pull out one of the drawers of her desk and stopped dead. She stared at the various set of weapons and then grabbed a sharply pointed wooden stick, this just as Willow walked through the door.

“Oh!” Willow exclaimed, shutting the door quickly. “I see you found your... hobby.”

“Hobby?”

“Carving.”

“Carving?”

“Yes. Wood. Carving wood. You love it. Can’t get enough of it,” Willow assured and Buffy’s eyes went to the stick still in one hand.

“I think – no,” she said, throwing it on the desk and Willow was about to explain further when she noticed the overnight bag packed and ready by the bed.

“You going somewhere?” she asked and Buffy nodded.

“Mom’s picking me up in like ten minutes. In front of the clock.” Willow looked quizzical and Buffy elaborated with: “We thought it might be better if I went home for a while; until everything’s worked itself out. I mean, you won’t have to cover for me and I wanna see mom anyways, so... That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Of course!” Willow nodded, smiling. “You should be where it’s comfortable and I think it’s a good idea. Totally. And I’ll come see you. I can come and see you, can’t I?” she added, sounding slightly unsure and Buffy laughed, giving her a quick spontaneous hug which made Willow smile back in clear relief.

“You’d better! I’ll need to know where things are going,” Buffy stated.

“Come on,” Willow said. “I’ll show you where the clock is.”

Buffy smiled her thanks at that.

¤

Everything felt off.

So, this was her room.

Her clothes. Her make-up. Her hair. Her face.

Nothing felt like it was really hers. The first exhilaration at this incredible situation, at the amazing chance of jumping forward in time, was wearing off. She didn’t feel like her body was hers anymore. She didn’t feel like she fit in here. She had spent an hour trying to go to sleep, but something was pulling at her every time she closed her eyes. Something was making her legs feel achy and in need of a brisk walk to get the led out of them.

She had asked her mother about why they had moved here, but Joyce had avoided the question and when Buffy pressed for an answer the older had said that she had been advised not to talk about any details regarding the years of Buffy’s life of which she didn’t know anything.

What had been a consolation, though, was the way they had spent the evening. It was how they always had, and it brought back a little piece of recognition for the weary Slayer. However, that time had now passed and as she turned over in her bed for the fourth time in half a minute she finally kicked her covers off and rose to her feet.

Pulling on a pair of pants and a sweater she grabbed her jacket and carefully pushed open her window. She had noticed the large tree outside earlier, its sprawling branches should be perfect to use as means of getting safe to the ground. For a second an incredible sensation of déjà vu rifled through her as she swung one leg over the windowsill, but it passed and she let it do so as she made her way outside. Jumping to the ground she landed in the soft grass and straightened herself up.

She took a deep breath of the night air and felt how her whole being seemed to feel revived. It was an overpowering stir deep down inside and she felt like running without stopping for anything. She didn’t though, but instead began walking toward the curb. Continuing she let her mind wander as it pleased.

She wouldn’t have thought herself living in a place like this, but she supposed in a way it was pretty alright. She hadn’t been able to find anything indicating that she still had contact with any of her Los Angeles friends... No letters, nothing at all. In a way she felt sorry about that. In another... A lot of them, she guessed, were pretty suck-y as friends. They just wanted to be near her because of her status at school. She hated that. However, she knew how the world worked, and if she could do something good for someone else – even if that was acting as a mere help toward popularity – then by God, she would do it.

She broke off to the left, walking through a tight cluster of trees and straight into someone’s chest.

“Watch where you’re going!” a voice she recognized, and which sent her heart galloping away, drawled. “Oh... it’s you,” he then grumbled and Buffy stared at him, utterly surprised and close to stupefied by that very feeling. “Good evening,” he added, and she couldn’t decide if he meant it or was only being sarcastic.

“Good evening?” she then asked. “It’s like one o’clock or something,” she added.

“Good morning, then,” he shrugged, bringing out a cigarette and she watched him as he lit it with a lighter gleaming in silver.

Another flash of déjà vu which disappeared as quickly as it appeared and she blinked before she said:

“You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you, or so I hear.”

Spike smirked. He might be able to get used to this, her acting all nice and nurturing. It sure was something else than the fist-to-face attitude she always saw fit to carry with her otherwise.

“Well,” he said, taking another drag and eyeing her for a moment before adding: “I don’t have to think ‘bout things like that.”

She looked skeptical and his smirk grew.

“Wanna walk?” he asked and she seemed self-conscious for a moment, but then followed to come up and walk by his side. “Shouldn’t be out this late alone, you know – isn’t safe,” he stated and she raised her eyebrows, disinterestedly. “You think I’m joking?”

“No,” she replied. “But – as apposed to popular belief – I can take care of myself.”

“No doubt,” he nodded and she glanced at him as he finished his fag and tossed it aside.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Meaning?”

“Here! In this very small town in the exact middle of nothing,” she elaborated as they reached an abandoned playground, and they proceeded to the swing set; Buffy taking a seat while Spike remained standing.

He seemed thoughtful and she wondered if she had said something wrong, then he snapped out of it and rested his gaze in hers. She smiled tryingly, but again he didn’t return it. Looking away he then leaned against one of the steel bars holding the swings up.

“It’s a long story,” he finally answered.

“I’ve got time,” she said.

“I don’t,” he bit off and she wished she knew what she had done to him that had him switch moods on her like that.

She wished she knew their history.

“Why are you called ‘Spike’?” she asked and she could see that he smiled, but it wasn’t a sunny one and it made her shudder in uncompromising unsettlement.

“I’m not gonna say I’m not enjoying this,” he said, pushing away from the bar to stand and face her again. “This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen you – what’s not to like about that...? But I think I’d better stay outta your way, love. And you outta mine.”

She furrowed her brow.

“Could I just...?” she began, getting to her feet; but she trailed off as she looked up at him and into those two eyes that were like bits of crystal tainted unimaginably blue.

She had never seen anything quite like them.

He held her gaze and then broke eye-contact.

“Go home,” he said, turning and walking away from her.

“Spike,” she tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen and she watched him go with growing irritation and defeat. “Spike!” she tried again, and then she was suddenly on the ground, something heavy on top of her.

She screamed, kicking out and having it fly off her. Scrambling to her feet she faced something resembling a human in form, but its face... Her heart nearly stopped as she stared at the creature before her.

“Slayer?” it hissed and her eyes grew as it lunged for her.

“Get away!” she exclaimed, throwing herself to the side and rolling on the ground, staying down as she tried to see where the being had gone off to.

It was getting up after missing its mark and she looked around for some kind of weapon. Any kind.

“Buffy!” Spike barked, breaking through the foliage on the other side of the playground and she felt her spirit rise with new hope.

Thank God!

“What the bleeding hell are you doing? Get up! Fight!” he now bellowed and the hope was extinguished.

Was he kidding!

She let out another yap of fear as the creature again was approaching her at awesome speed. She wasn’t sure how she got to her feet so quick, but without fully registering it she was up and as the creature once again attacked she felt her body tense and then her leg kicked out and hit it over the head. It flew to the ground, rolling around as she went after it. She was on automatic pilot and everything was a total blur, and before she could react her fingers were grasping a thick, broken-off stick, ramming it through the creature’s chest.

It turned to ashes before her growing eyes and then she straightened her back, looking at the simple weapon in her hand before she dropped it to the ground.

She was shaking uncontrollably.

“What did I do...?” she mumbled.

Spike watched the shock building quickly on her. So this was what it had been like – her very first slay. It was unreal, to watch her like this. He fought to push the swivel of empathy off, but he wasn’t successful and so he gently approached her. He was out of practice, but he carefully reached out a hand and placed it under her chin.

“You did good,” he mumbled as she finally locked her eyes with his.

“I couldn’t control...” she said, voice sluggish and he shook his head a little.

“No, it’s a part of you, pet. This is who you are... You’re not supposed to control it. I wish I could tell you to forget about it...” he said with a half smile and she returned it, which he figured to be a good sign.

“Why?” she asked and he watched her face for the longest minute, realizing that some part of him didn’t want her to know.

“I should take you to Giles’,” he then mumbled, taking his hand away and stepping back slightly. “The poof ’ll have all the right things to say.”

“I thought you just did,” she said, and he looked away from her again, not replying to her sentiment as they got themselves moving.

¤

Buffy listened to the man known as Giles as he in very complicated terms tried to explain to her why she had just done what she did, why her reflexes had acted like they had and thus had saved her life. He gave her a speech he had already given her once, about the Chosen One. She stared at him as though he was insane. Finally he brought out one of those sharpened sticks she had seen in her very own dorm room and stated that it was in fact a weapon, a stake; used to kill vampires.

At the word she rose to her feet so fast that the chair she had been seated on toppled over.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” she said, looking from Giles – to Spike – and back to Giles again, “but this is absolutely ridiculous!”

“Buffy,” Giles began, but she just gave him another look, this one promptly silencing him, before she walked passed him and up to the front door.

“Next you’ll tell me that Dracula actually exists, or that werewolves and monsters are lurking about. Is this what you meant by this town not being safe?” she asked, eyes on Spike and he started to answer when she interrupted with: “The only thing I need protection from seems to be you two loonies!”

With that she opened the door and walked through it, slamming it shut behind her.

There was a short time of stillness, the vampire and Watcher exchanging glances, and then Giles sighed:

“That went well.”

Spike nodded.

“Above expectation,” he replied before moving up to the door.

“You are going home, aren’t you?” Giles asked. “You’re not considering going after her?”

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow at that.

“Why the bugger would I do that?” he shot.

“Spike,” Giles said and the vamp paused in the doorway, “it was good... that you brought her here.”

“Oh, don’t get all excited, Watcher, ain’t like I’m looking to take over your job,” he assured, and then he walked out the door.

¤

Buffy crept through the window of her room, shutting it softly before moving up to her bed. She lay down on it and curled herself into a ball. Shutting her eyes seemed impossible and she found herself staring at her window. She thought the shadows moving over it took the shapes of faces and soon adrenaline was pumping through her veins. She was wide awake.

A creek in a floorboard outside her door made her sit straight, drawing small breaths of air as she took in the doorknob. It stayed where it was, didn’t move, everything was quiet; but her whole body was so tense she thought it might actually snap like a guitar string. The sound of something fluttering against the window made her give a small yell before she got off the bed and ran up to her door, opening it up she continued into her mother’s bedroom and was under her mother’s covers in a flash.

Joyce murmured something.

“It’s just me,” Buffy whispered. “I’m sorry, go back to sleep.”

Joyce rolled over and met the wide eyes of her daughter, having a slight smile cross her face despite herself. She reached out a hand and touched Buffy’s cheek before opening her arms and having Buffy move into a hard embrace.

“You haven’t done this since you were a little girl,” Joyce said and Buffy smiled as well, feeling how she was beginning to relax. “I guess I had almost forgotten that you used to do it... You’re always so strong, sweetheart, so grown up...”

She trailed off.

“Mom,” Buffy mumbled. “Do you know what the Slayer is?”

“Oh, honey,” Joyce whispered, her hold tightening, “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to go through this... not again. I was hoping that maybe... But that’s me being very selfish and very stupid.” She pulled back to have Buffy’s gaze in hers before she said: “You mustn’t be frightened, Buffy. We have had many talks over the years about why you are who you are, and you have always offered extremely good reasons for doing what it is you do. You may dislike it, but you do it none the less. And I love you for it, you know?”

Buffy swallowed.

“So... so it’s true?” she asked, fighting back the tears of growing shock. “Am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare?”

Joyce closed her eyes, kissed Buffy on the forehead and then pulled her close again before she answered:

“Darling, how I wish it was.”

¤

Not the Usual

¤

The next morning Buffy stayed in bed until noon. She watched the sunlight fall through the curtains of her room, into which she had moved, spreading warmth and a healthy glow around. She thought it was strange how a room that was so threatening at night, could be so utterly different simply because it was daytime. She knew she had to go see Giles, but didn’t really want to. She admitted that the whole Slayer business put a whole lot of things in perspective... but...

Finally she threw the covers off, took a shower and dressed.

She walked slowly, coming across the playground from the previous night and finding herself thinking of Spike. She wondered why he acted the way he did around her. What had she done to him to make him dislike her in the way he did?

She reached Giles’ apartment and stood hesitating before the door she had stormed through only a few hours earlier, and then she knocked. It didn’t take long before it was opened.

“Buffy,” Giles said and she could tell he hadn’t been expecting her. “Come in.”

She stopped by the kitchen counter and turned to him.

“So,” she said.

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“I’m here.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“So... what now? I don’t have to wear some dorky outfit, do I?”

“No,” he smiled.

“Thank God.” There was a pause before she continued: “So this thing’s in my blood? The slayage?”

“Slaying,” he corrected, then nodded. “Pretty much in your blood, yes.”

“And I... what? I take one of those pokers and go out and wait to be attacked? Will the ‘reflexes’ reflect as they should? What if they don’t? How long have I actually been doing the slayage... –ing? Do you think what I’ve learned is still in there somewhere, or do I have to start from scratch? Man! So typical! Finally get a break from school and whatta you know – back behind bars even before I get a chance to smell the fresh air.”

She seemed to stop her rant there, sinking down on the same chair she had been in the night prior. Giles removed his glasses and watched her thoughtfully before he said:

“You have been the Slayer for a little over three years now, and I do believe the knowledge is in your brain somewhere. It may be buried too deep to extract, but in a fight you should do as well as you did last night. You will need proper training, of course, until we figure this thing out and get you back the way you... were before. I think you should minimize exposure to danger. Don’t stay out too late, don’t walk the streets alone – simple things like that will help you.”

“Simple?” Buffy muttered. “And I don’t see how sitting in my room could possibly ‘help’ me.”

“Perhaps you will if your life is threatened again. I should say it would be better not to risk it, but...”

She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.

“Well, this sucks,” she stated firmly.

“Willow and I are working on what could have brought you into this state. We will find a solution. Now, do you wish to know more about your heritage?”

Buffy looked at him, then shrugged. Encouraged he sat down and began to tell her.

¤

Against her will she did understand that Giles was right. She made sure to be home by seven the following three nights, to have dinner with her mother after which she stayed inside the house, fighting every urge to go out. Her mother was seemingly in seventh heaven. They played silly board games and watched TV together, eating popcorn and snuggling up on the couch. But once Joyce went to bed and the house grew filled with silence, Buffy lay awake, staring at her ceiling and having the most unquenchable need to go somewhere, to run, to let her body stretch to its full capacity.

On the third night she lay perfectly still until the clock on her bedside table struck one, and then she simply couldn’t take it anymore. She donned a pair of jeans, a sweater, jacket and comfortable shoes and on her way out the window she snatched a stake – she had learned the correct word over the few days of sparring, which she had spent with Giles – and held it tightly in one hand as she jumped to the ground.

“Quite a climb,” a voice said behind her and she spun around.

“Do you always appear out of nowhere?” she asked, her heart in her throat as the bleached blonde emerged from the shadows.

“As apposed to what?” he asked back and she raised her eyebrows.

“Been a while,” she said with a sudden smile. “Been up to anything worth retelling?”

He thought of the unfortunate game of kitten poker he had played at Willy’s; of the three vamps he had killed the night prior and of the rumors he’d heard that something big was brewing beneath the city.

“No,” he then replied. “Nothing worth retelling.”

“Me either,” she sighed. “Is it just me, or is this town completely dead?”

“Well, not completely ...But I get your point.”

She started walking and he hesitated before he followed, casting an eye on the weapon still in her hand. He could almost hear the wood creak from how hard she was holding onto it. He smirked.

“On the hunt for nasties, are we, love?” he wondered.

“No. Just a precaution... Giles’ ghost stories seem dull coming out of his mouth, but swimming around with the other fishies in your head they begin to make mischief.”

Spike’s smirk widened.

“Sharks in calm waters?”

She looked at him, then smiled as well.

“Trouble is, I still don’t know exactly what the sharks are supposed to look like. Giles tried to draw me a picture, but God, am I glad he didn’t choose that as a profession.”

Spike struggled to summon a need to vamp out and grab her, give her the scare of her life. But something was lacking and he couldn’t see any sweetness in a situation like that, no real reward. It was more fun listening to her chattering on, getting a clearer picture of her; than it would be to alienate her. He was closing in on weaknesses, he knew it. Just a little while longer now.

“Did you hear something?” she asked.

He strained his ears, but heard nothing but the wind ruffling through leaves.

“No,” he shook his head. “Why? A little jumpy, are we?” he teased and she gave him a friendly glare before taking a small step closer to him, looking over her shoulder.

“Where do you live?” she asked and he almost choked, his eyes growing a tad. “I’ve never seen your place and... it’s a bit chilly, don’t you think? Please, let’s just go there.”

“I could be a serial killer for all you know,” he said, rather baffled at her carelessness, but she fired off such a bright smile at that that he nearly found the corners of his mouth beginning to twitch in response. “My place isn’t... the usual.”

“Spike, you’re not the usual, why would I ever think your place was?” she remarked and he could no longer hold down the smile, something which rather startled him.

“Fine, Slayer,” he then murmured. “Let’s go.”

They walked in silence for a while, nearing the cemetery hosting his humble abode. Entering the graveyard Buffy furrowed her brow, but kept quiet. Spike led her up to the door of his crypt and opened it up for her. She had stopped dead in her tracks and now she stared at him.

“Seriously?” she asked, voice hesitant.

He merely made a gesture for her to move forward and after another moment she squared her shoulders and did as he wanted. She walked through the door, him following. He began to light the candles he had managed to get hold of as she walked around inspecting the place. It was rather desolate, he didn’t mind admitting it. But it was all he needed. He shook the match in his hand and threw it to the side before facing her.

“Wow,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “When you said unusual... And look, your very own spider to spin webs for you.”

He smirked, once more in spite of himself.

“Want a drink?” he asked, checking himself as she was about to answer and saying: “Better not.”

She frowned, then sighed.

“Fine,” she muttered, sinking down in the tattered armchair which was the only piece of furniture the place boasted.

The soft light of the candles danced over her profile and he wondered, briefly, what a girl like her could possibly want to be doing in a place like his.

“Why are you here, Buffy?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She turned her head to him, meeting his eyes and holding them. Then she smiled a little.

“Curious, I guess,” she answered.

“About what?”

“You,” she admitted slowly.

“What about me could make you curious, pet? I’m no mystery.”

Then he remembered – everything written about him, everything she had been told, she had forgotten.

Bloody hell.

She smiled again.

“How about that drink?” he grumbled, walking into the provisory kitchen and grabbing the whiskey bottle there.

He got two clean glasses and filled them to the brim, heading over to where she was sitting and shoving one of the glasses into her outstretched hand before raising his. He didn’t say anything for a toast, merely tilted his head back and swallowed the strong liquid. She gaped, then closed her mouth and glanced at the glass. She took a small sip, feeling like a juvenile girl and bracing herself before she put the edge of the glass to her mouth. Just as she was about to swallow it down, however, it was taken out of her grip and she opened her eyes again.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I mean... Not... Bleeding...”

Turning from her he kept muttering incoherently to himself as he put the glasses down on a nearby sarcophagus. She observed his back for another few moments and then she said:

“Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous!” he spouted, facing her again.

She met his so suddenly burning gaze without flinching, and then she smiled. He glared at her at first, then he took a step forward, putting his hands on either armrest as he leaned forward, the motion not stopping until his face was leveled with hers. She drew an unexpected breath, her eyes not leaving his and questions tumbling through her brain as she watched the anger on him.

“You don’t know who I am,” he stated.

“So tell me,” she replied, wondering why she felt so calm, even under his malignant stare.

His gaze hardened, and then he straightened up, shaking his head.

“You’ll kill me,” he grumbled and she blinked. “Not now,” he added at her doubtful look. “Later. When you’re not... this. You. When you’re not this you.”

“Even if that’s true...” she said tentatively, “why would I kill you over telling me who you are?”

He didn’t know just what to answer to that, but had a searing warning at the back of his neck not to take this any further or it would come back to bite him.

“I’m a selfish being, Slayer,” he said finally. “That’s the one and only sodding time you’ll hear me say it, so you’d bloody well store those words somewhere safe. You can’t stay here. And it’s not for you I’m saying it – it’s for me. Swear to God, unless you leave something not so pleasant is bound to happen to my limbs once you’re back to your old self.”

She thought that over, neglecting to take into account the still hidden reason she might have to actually do a deed such as that, and then came up with a piece of logic he shouldn’t be able to find a way out of.

“How do you know I’ll remember then? My brain hasn’t been all oh-and-ah since I got here... Maybe it won’t be when I leave – or come back – either.”

He tilted his head just a little to one side, a characteristic she found utterly cute, though she had a feeling she shouldn’t disclose that to him. He eyed her, and then a small smirk drew over his mouth. She returned it easily.

“Besides,” she said, standing up and looking around the place, “you seriously need my help.”

“Right. I’ll let you prance in ‘ere and change my décor!”

“Spike, natural habitants don’t count as décor.”

“Look, if you’re gonna be a buggering girl about it you might as well go.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I’m talking baby steps! A dash of paint, a throw rug, some things to make it more... homely.”

“This is homely,” he assured, grabbing the still full glass of whiskey he had taken from her and downing it easily. “And,” he then continued, “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

She laughed, then her eyes landed on the armchair and her smile died as she slowly shook her head.

“This looks like you found it on the street,” she remarked.

“That I did.”

“You must be seriously pulling both my legs! I know people who are practically penniless, but they’d rather die than furnish their home in something someone else has seen fit to throw out! If you don’t have enough money, just get something second hand.”

“Right, ‘cause that’s not something people have seen fit to rid themselves of.”

“Now, no one love’s a smart-ass.”

“Was that some sort of hint for me to start feeling bad for you?” he shot and she gave him a push, which wasn’t meant to, but actually sent him stumbling into the mantelpiece, almost losing his balance.

He regained it smoothly and she looked regretful, though there was no way for her to smother her smile.

“Still getting used to that,” she said.

He watched her as she began to walk around the space of the room, dragging one finger on one of the sarcophaguses and frowning as it was covered in a thick layer of nearly white dust. He ventured trying to get himself to push her out the door and shut it tight right in her face, but this was fun in the most macabre way and he wasn’t so sure it would be that easy to give it up.

We’ll be back to cutting each other’s throats soon enough, he thought to himself. Right now it’s not really... her.

That addition, however, disturbed him on so many levels that he reached for the alcohol and took a swig right out of the bottle, telling himself over and over that above all he could not forget who he was dealing with; could not forget who he was dealing with.

She had circled the small room and now landed right back before him.

“And why are you staying here again?”

“I like it; it’s homely, if you recall.”

“Spike...”

“Slayer, I’m not moving – so don’t push it.”

“I wasn’t... You know, I’m not a ditz. There’s something...” She trailed off, looking at him for a moment and then taking a seat in the armchair again, folding her hands on her lap and then saying: “Tell me what brought you here... I mean, what do you do? Disregarding where we are; you seem like someone who probably has a really neat job...”

“Yeah,” he agreed, turning back to her and eyeing her for a long while before coming up to her, squatting down before her to make sure she was paying attention. “I kill for a living,” he stated, and the absolute graveness on his face made her feel a shiver run through her. “I’m not one of the good guys. Since you have to have it pointed out, I’m making a point – you can’t trust me.”

She met his gaze unabashed before she reached out a hand and touched his cheek.

“I think I can,” she said.

He clenched his jaws together.

“I’m not human,” he stated and she looked so disbelieving that it spurred him on in his decision and he changed appearance right there, her soft hand still against the side of his face.

The fear in her eyes caught him off guard, and he wondered why. He had been expecting it.

Buffy felt like she had just dived into ice cold water. The blue eyes she had come to know pretty well had been exchanged for a wicked yellow. His facial features contorted just as Giles had tried to explain to her when he described the vampire’s appearance. Where human teeth once were, fangs had taken their place.

She was trembling, but barely noticed it.

She couldn’t believe it.

She closed her eyes, drawing a breath to steady herself. She didn’t open them until she felt ready, her hand all the while resting against his cheek. Finally she eased her lids to part and rested her gaze in his once more. Her fingers gently slid up to the lumps between and above his eyebrows. Then down his nose to his mouth. He was staring at her, the surprise not concealed by the yellow. She finally removed her hand and sat back.

“Thank you,” she said. “For showing me.”

Once more all he could do was stare; utterly taken aback by this response. What was she doing! He felt a wave of frustration move through him as he straightened up into a standing position, stripping the vampire exterior and turning from her with a low growl. She giggled.

“Did you just growl at me?” she asked and he let hear a louder one as an answer. “Okay, then. You’re a vampire. But that’s clearly not all you are”

“It’s not how it works,” he said, swiveling back around to face her. “I try to kill you, you try to kill me, then I try again, you cower...”

“I do not,” she stopped him, rising to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest.

He looked at her again, saying:

“Alright, you don’t. You charge. You do not sit in my bloody chair telling me there’s more to me than...!”

“Than? Are you saying there is more to you?”

“Is this what we’re gonna be discussing all night?”

“What do you wanna discuss all night?”

“If you’re such a bleeding know-it-all, why don’t you tell me?”

“How to better the relationship between good and evil?”

“Didn’t know there was a... what did you call it?”

“I think it needs bettering,” she underlined, overlooking his query. “Especially if you’re gonna flip every time I try to pay you a compliment! You’re wound up pretty tight, there, aren’t you?”

He clenched his jaws together, and at his tightened stance she smiled again. It took a few moments, but then he seemed to relax, defeated, before he gave her a half smile in return.

“Do you have a blanket...? Something to sit on so we can... sit down,” she asked and he hesitated, then replied:

“Have a bed. ‘S downstairs.” She cocked an eyebrow, obviously hesitant and a wide smirk spread on his mouth at the sight of it. “Honey, I’m not into you that way,” he reassured. “You’re perfectly safe.”

Her other eyebrow rose as well at that, and as she walked passed him to where he was showing she remarked:

“This from the vampire who said he wasn’t to be trusted.”

As she began to climb down the ladder leading her to... well, she really wasn’t sure... she had to question herself. What was she doing with him? She couldn’t help it. It was an inexplicable want to dig deeper. Her curiosity was awoken. She couldn’t walk away now. She wasn’t in any danger, no matter how much he tried to make her think she was. She could sense it.

Spike brought one burning candle with him and as they both had descended he lit the ones in his bedroom. Buffy was pleasantly surprised to see a big and comfortable looking bed in the room. Or... cave. It was hard to tell.

“Is this standard for vampires?” she asked as she walked up to the piece of furniture and took a seat on it, watching him walk about, still putting wicks on flame. “This... lone wolf... I’m so bad... don’t-mess-with-me crap?”

“I wasn’t always alone,” he snapped and her interest was sparked immediately. “And it’s not crap,” he muttered, dripping some wax to fasten the candle he had in his hand before coming up to her.

He sat down a few feet away from her on the edge of the bed. There was silence for a little while.

“Who was she?” Buffy wondered and he glanced at her, then looked at his hands. “Was she a vampire? ... Beautiful, I bet.” He gave her a rather appreciative look. She smiled. “Yeah. Everything you ever wanted.”

“She was,” he agreed. “For a really long time... she was.”

He grew thoughtful and she observed his profile.

“And she loved you.”

He gnashed his teeth, then smiled weakly to himself.

“Not enough,” he said.

“What happened? Did she leave you?”

“She bloody threw me out. Or something. Told me I was...” He looked at Buffy and furrowed his brow slowly. “Insane,” he stated and she looked wondering. “She was insane,” he clarified. “Crazy as they come. No use getting stuck on anything the bird said.”

“And you ended up here?” she asked.

“Yeah... Funny how things work for you or against you. Seems like everything’s against me, doesn’t it?”

“Why?”

“Well, fate spinning me around, taking me straight back to where my strongest enemy has set up her own little posse just so I can get a bleeding chip in my head making me not be able to feed, making me not be able to kill anything but my own kind and – in shame of all that is evil – actually join her buggering side!”

Buffy stared at him.

“That’s me you’re talking about, isn’t it?” she asked silently and he turned his gaze in hers. “That’s who I am... or what I am. Your enemy.”

She had the strangest feeling near her heart speaking of righteousness and destiny, as though she had just hit the mark with such a simple statement; and yet it sounded so wrong to another part of her that she found herself frowning. Enemies. It couldn’t be true. Though...

“Well,” she said, rising to conceal the evident emotions on her face, “it’s only natural, right? Here’s the Slayer, there’s the Vampire. And you said that we fight... I just didn’t think...”

She stood with her back to him and he frowned.

“Buffy...?”

“God, I’m so fifteen,” she muttered, swallowing and getting a hold of herself, turning back to him. “Look, I just wanted... I don’t know what I wanted. To know you, I guess. But if this is that weird, then...”

“It’s not,” he stopped her, getting to his feet as well. “Come on, I have the Slayer in my bedroom, we’ve moved well beyond weird.”

She smiled at that, and he returned it, satisfied that he’d been able to produce it, and then quickly turning himself away from that feeling. This was business and nothing else.

“So... it’s okay if I stay? You’re sure?” she wondered and he nodded.

“It’s fine,” he said.

She came up to him again, still wearing the smile as she sat back down, feeling slightly self-conscious as he sat next to her. She lay down on her back, stretching out and linking her fingers together above her head as she looked up into the dark ceiling.

“You know, some nice pieces of fabric would really brighten this place up,” she said as he lay down beside her.

“Just nothing yellow,” he said and she smirked.

“Reds and blues and greens,” she stated.

“Just nothing pastel-ish.”

“I cannot believe you just said pastel-ish,” she giggled and he glared at her before he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll tear them down,” he warned and she settled, smiling broadly.

“Whatever you say. Nada pastel-ish.” She paused, then yawned. After a few seconds she inquired: “Spike, how old are you?”

“Old.”

“Is it true that vampires are immortal?”

“Yep.”

“So you can’t die?”

“If I stay clear of stakes through the heart – nope.”

“That’s freaky.”

“Yep.”

“You don’t think it’s freaky!” she stated, rolling over on her side to get a better look at him. “You’re used to it! You’re old!” He smiled, simply nodding. “Are you strong?”

He put up a hand and she looked at it, then reached up hers and took a hold on it. She tried to pull the arm down, but it didn’t budge. She began to put all her strength into it and she could feel how the arm was beginning to shake. She smiled, not giving up for another ten minutes, and then gnawing out between clenched teeth:

“Call it a draw.”

“Sounds good.”

They both relaxed and Spike finally met her gaze, his blues being laced with a, for once, unhidden respect. She smirked and gave him a push with one elbow.