Chapter 7:
“So basically, Spike and I both occasionally have visions by ourselves, so when you put it together it’s like…Slayervision Film Festival?”

“Something like that, yes,” Giles said, polishing his glasses. “I really don’t understand it, myself.”

“I think I do.” Jenny shrugged when everyone looked at her incredulously. “What? It’s simple. Male half.” She pointed at Spike. “Female half.” Now her finger moved to Buffy. “Put them together to make a whole, and they’re stronger.”

Everyone stared at her incredulously. Finally, Buffy shook her head. “Techno-pagan,” she said by way of explanation. “They’re a little nutty.”

“Makes sense to me.” Spike leered at her. “Two halves that fit t’gether perfectly, ‘f you get my meanin’.”

“You’re disgusting,” Buffy informed him prissily.

“Like you’re much better. I seem to remember a certain amount of moan—“

“OK, that’s enough!” Jenny clapped her hands energetically. “Who’s up for a trip to the Magic Box?”

Giles declined for both himself and Spike, a move that Buffy was pretty sure pissed the other Slayer off to no end. She eagerly accepted the invitation. Time spent alone with Jenny was always of the good, and anyway, she’d be glad to be away from Spike for awhile.

Yeah, sure. And pigs are going to sprout wings and fly, right? part of her said sarcastically as she and her Watcher walked down the street towards the magic shop.

Well, anything’s possible, another part shot back.

Buffy groaned out loud. She wasn’t just talking to herself—she was arguing. “I am so headed for the loony bin.”

Jenny glanced at her. “Not that I don’t have a huge list of reasons, but why?”

“I’m arguing with myself. There are two little voices in my head, and they’re arguing!” Belatedly, Buffy realized that she was yelling.

Jenny wasn’t the only person eyeing the Slayer askance. “These voices don’t happen to be telling you to—“

“Go all hatchety-murdery? No, they’re arguing about Sp—never mind.” Stupid mouth and its stupid blurting. She knew that Jenny knew about Spike and what had gone on, but she so didn’t want to talk about it.

Jenny didn’t seem to care. “You were arguing with yourself about Spike?” she asked, grinning wickedly. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“I wasn’t arguing about Spike! I was arguing about—um—sporks.”

“Sporks.” Now she just sounded flat-out disbelieving. “Now, why do I not believe that?”

“I dunno.” The Slayer grinned at her Watcher innocently. “I was just thinking, what’s up with sporks? Because they’re mostly spoons, not forks, the little pointy things are like this big—“ she held up her fingers—“So, really, they should call them spooks, or something.”

“Buffy. It’s worrying me a little that you’re being so secretive. You told me everything you did with Owen. I don’t like being out of the loop.”

“That’s because Owen was…Owen,” Buffy replied. “It’s different with Spike. It’s—“

“More important?” Jenny finished for her.

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know.”

They entered the magic shop and started browsing the shelves for the supplies they needed. For a little while, they were silent. Then Jenny asked, “Are you ever going to tell me?”

Buffy shrugged, a sly smile on her face. “Are you ever going to tell me about you and Giles?”

She had the pleasure of seeing Jenny reduced to spluttering. “It was—there was nothing—“ She stopped and said stiffly, “The current sleeping arrangement is entirely for yours and Spike’s benefit.”

“Really? So when you told me that romantic attachments were unneeded distractions, you were just kidding?”

Jenny sighed. “You are so annoying sometimes. Giles and I are two adults. What we do together is no one’s business but our own. You, however, are my Slayer, and if I want to know what’s going on with you and another Slayer—“

“Omigod!” Buffy pointed a finger at the older woman. “You are so pulling rank on me just so I’ll give you dishy details about me and Spike!”

“Aha! There is a you and Spike!” Jenny snapped her fingers in triumph.

Buffy rolled her eyes and got a bottle of newt eyes from the shelf. “There was kissing. That’s all.”

“I knew it!” Jenny crowed triumphantly.

“Wait—didn’t you see us? We were going at it in the middle of the hallway.” She cocked her head, regarding her Watcher speculatively. “Unless you were busy doing something else…”

Jenny’s cheeks were suddenly very, very red.

Buffy gave a derisive snort. “Groping in the library,” she said scornfully, as though she and Spike hadn’t been doing the same thing in the hallway. “Could you be any more hormone-ey?”

“Why don’t we just get the rest of the supplies?” Jenny glared at her laughing Slayer. “You can get the cow patties.”

“Cow patties? What the hell kind of spell are you going to be doing?”

“Actually, it’ll be a spell on you and Spike,” Jenny said absentmindedly, picking up some thyme. “We need to retrieve that vision you two had.”

Buffy blanched. “Okay, so don’t want to relive that! It was disgusting, Jenny. Like walking into a nest of master vampires, only a million times worse.”

Jenny winced at the mention of master vampires—they’d both had some bad experiences in that department. “Yeah, I kinda got that it was bad from all the screaming you two were doing. But it’s necessary. If that was a prophetic vision, we need to know what’s coming.”

What’s coming. With a sinking stomach, Buffy all of a sudden remembered exactly who and where she was: a Slayer on top of a very active Hellmouth. Spike’s arriving had drawn her attention away from that for awhile, but the vision had made it come back. She could practically feel the weight of the world dropping back on her shoulders.

The only difference was that this time she knew she was sharing it with someone. The problem was that she couldn’t figure out if she was happy about that or not…it was great that there was another Slayer, of course, but couldn’t he have been nice and harmless, like that goony Scott Hope guy who was always trying to get her to go out with him? Why’d it have to be someone as annoying as Spike?

On the other hand, she was pretty sure that Scott would scream like a girl if he ever saw a demon, and she knew from experience that when it came to Spike, it was the other way around. Of all the people she could have guarding her back, he definitely wasn’t the worst.

And it helps that he’s a really great kisser and hotter than hell, right, Buffy? a little voice in her head said sarcastically.

“Buffy!”

“Huh?” Oh. Jenny was snapping her fingers impatiently in front of Buffy’s eyes. “Sorry. I was—“

“Daydreaming about a certain British guy?” Jenny teased.

“Like you don’t do the same thing.” She quickly scanned the table she’d been standing at and saw the brown box, labeled “cow patties, 3.19” in hurriedly scrawled permanent marker. She grinned and picked it up. “Here we go. Cow crap.”

“Buffy,” Jenny admonished her as they walked towards the counter, “how many times have I told you—“

“That even crap is a cussword?” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Jenny, that is so 50s…”

They were bickering jokingly all the way back to the library.


~*~

 

Chapter 8:
~*~

According to Jenny, the spell wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow—something Buffy was incredibly grateful for, because the longer she could put off having to see that uber-gross vision, the better.

She went out to the Bronze that night with Willow and Xander for some much-needed distraction. Luckily, Spike was nowhere to be seen when she left the house. The very last thing I want is for the bleached idiot to intrude on my night off, she told herself firmly.

Her friends were as glad to see her as she was to see them. “Buffster!” Xander greeted her enthusiastically, enveloping her in a hug. “We were starting to think you’d decided to live at the library.”

Willow nodded, getting up to hug her friend. “Not that it would be a bad thing, or anything, will all the books and stuff,” she said, grinning.

Buffy just raised her eyebrows. “You want to live with Wesley? Wow, Wills. Bad taste much?”

The redhead winced. “Oops. Forgot about that part.”

“Was he being his usual annoying geeky self?” Xander asked. “Because if so, murder is always an option.”

“No, I think he was actually kind of scared of Spike,” Buffy said. “Definitely the only thing he’s good for.”

“Spike the Slayer, right? I—I mean, the other one?” Buffy had talked to Willow and Xander about him on the phone earlier that day.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, he’s the other Slayer. The more annoying Slayer.”

“How does that work out, anyway? Did another Slayer just appear or something? Talk about bad planning,” Xander said.

“Actually, there’s this whole big long story about Merlin and King Arthur and oh my God, what the hell is he doing here?!” Buffy exclaimed. Spike was standing not ten feet from her, looking as sexy as hell. Her eyes narrowed. He was chatting up Cordelia. All his sexy-as-hell-ness was directed toward Cordelia!

“That bitch is so going down,” Buffy muttered, sliding off the stool and stalking towards Spike.

Willow looked at Xander, confused. “Does she usually call guys bitches?”

Xander pointed to Spike’s face—a bruise was just visible. “Maybe she made him her bitch.”

They both paused to let that thought sink in. Finally Willow made a face and said, “Ew,” and turned her attention to the blonde pair.

~*~

For the first time since he’d come into her life, Buffy actually felt sorry for Spike.

He was backed into a corner by Cordelia Chase. The brunette was chattering a mile a minute about something, and Spike couldn’t have looked more pained than if he was chained up and being tortured by a master vampire. When his eyes locked with hers, he actually widened them and mouthed, help me!

She bit back a grin. He is so gonna owe me after this…

She came up from behind Cordelia in time to catch part of the girl’s speech—“And trust me, nothing looks grosser on a girl than bright orange. And Harmony is a blonde. Granted, she’s a totally fake blonde, but—“

“Hi, baby.”

Buffy pushed past Cordelia rudely and slid her arm through Spike’s, blinking up at him coyly through long lashes. “Waiting for me?”

He smirked down at her. “Look for you, actually. How the hell d’you navigate in this place?”

“If you’re new, it’s best to have a guide.” She smiled in what she hoped was a seductive manner and slid a hand up his chest, trying to ignore the thrill that went through her body at the simple touch. Now was not the time for melteyness. “Want me to show you around?”

Part of her was disgusted at that statement, especially given that she was saying it to Spike, who despite the fact that he was a great kisser was still a huge pain in her butt. The other part of her, though, was dancing around in circles at the look on Cordy’s face: pure, utter murder.

“You know Spike, Buffy? Wow. I’m surprised he had time to hang around with a geek like you,” Cordelia said, the sweetness of her tone belying the words.

Spike slipped his arm out of Buffy’s. For a second her heart sank and she berated herself for helping him. He was going to humiliate her in front of the Miss Popular of the school, and there was nothing she’d be able to do about it.

But instead of making a nasty remark and leaving her with her humiliation, Spike slid an arm around her shoulders in a proprietary embrace. “Buffy’s m’ girl,” he said coldly to Cordelia. “An’ ‘f I hear you’ve been givin’ her a hard time, you’ll pay for it. Understand?”

Cordelia’s mouth feel open. “Are you threatening me?”

“Well, yeah.”

Buffy giggled—two words and Spike had made Cordelia sound like the dumbest girl on the face of the planet.

The tall girl’s face was now more than just mad. It was a deep, dark red, and Buffy really wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d exploded. She pointed two fingers sharply at Buffy and Spike. “You two,” she said in a trembling voice, “Are so going to pay for this. When I tell Daddy what you did—“

“How ‘bout you go do that?” Spike interrupted. “Run an’ tell Daddy. Least then we wouldn’t have to listen to your voice.”

That was the last straw for Cordelia. As Buffy and Spike watched, both very amused, she threw up her hands, let out a melodramatic wail, and practically ran out of the Bronze.

Once she was gone, Buffy turned to Spike. “You are the absolute best person in the world, did you know?”

“What, for tellin’ the bint off?” He smirked. “I honestly thought she’d keep talkin’ till the next apocalypse.”

“Yeah, I totally just saved your butt.”

“And I saved yours, so we’re even.”

“As if. Being humiliated by Queen C is way better than being talked to death by her. I saved you way more than you saved me.”

“Not even close, luv. I saw how much you were dreadin’ me telling you to shove off.”

“I was not!” Buffy argued. “I can handle Cordy myself.” When he continued to look skeptical, she insisted, “I can!”

“Right.” Abruptly Spike dismissed the subject. “So, what is there to do in this place, anyway?”

Buffy shrugged. “Not much. Get a drink, talk to friends. You could meet Will and Xander.”

“What’re you doing hanging out with a couple ‘f blokes?” Spike demanded, eyes narrowed.

She rolled her eyes. God, I kiss him once and he goes all possessive… “Willow is a girl, you bleached idiot. And Xander is so close to being gay it’s not even funny.”

He relaxed immediately. “Oh. ‘s alright, then.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just go get us drinks?”

Luckily, he decided to play along. “Right, then. Coke?”

She shook her head. “Pepsi?”

“What difference does it make?” he asked impatiently. “They’re both brown an’ bubbly, aren’t they?”

“Just get me a Goddamn Pepsi!” she all but yelled, pushing him toward the bar.

She had no idea why that would be so satisfying to him, but his expression immediately turned into a smirk. Mock saluting her, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

God, this night is turning out to suck so bad, she thought, leaning against a pillar. If only Spike hadn’t decided to come and find her…

“Hello, luv.” A heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder.

She whirled around. “What the hell are you doing back here?” she snapped angrily. “And where are our drinks?”

“Drinks? Why do you care about them?” He cocked his head. “Thought we had more important things to discuss.”

Oh, boy. She should have known he’d bring this up. “Like what, Spike? How much bleach you use when you dye your hair?”

He definitely looked weird when he was mad. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed—in any other situation, Buffy would have laughed and called him a girl. But before she had a chance to say anything, he yanked her into the dark under the stairs.

“Hey!” She clawed at the hand on her arm. It wasn’t too tight, but he obviously wasn’t going anywhere. “Let me go!”

“But we kissed. It’s important.”

“Yeah? So? I kissed Angel, too, and I’m not going to marry him!”

A peculiar look came over Spike’s face. “Angel?”

Oops. Buffy really, really didn’t feel like explaining her not-so-mysterious benefactor to the other Slayer at the moment. “Never mind. The point is, just because we kissed, it doesn’t mean you all of a sudden own me.”

She really, really didn’t like how he was looking at her. He looked more pissed off than she’d ever seen him—even when she was pummeling him earlier that day—but at the same time, he looked genuinely hurt.

Which was bad. She’d spent half the day convincing herself that it didn’t matter. She knew dang good and well that she couldn’t convince him, too. Why can’t he just cooperate for once and be all irritating and nonchalant about it? she wondered, watching his face stiffen before he opened his mouth and spoke.

“So basically, you’re tryin’ to tell me that the kiss this mornin’ meant nothing to you.”

He sounded calm. How could he sound calm? He was supposed to sound mad or hurt, not calm.

Wait. Nonchalant meant calm, didn’t it? Dang it.

Well, fine. Buffy set her chin. If he could be so levelheaded, then she could too. “Nope. Nothing. It’s not important at all. I haven’t even thought about it since it happened.”

Now he was smiling. Bastard. “So, it doesn’t affect you at all when I touch you?”

She couldn’t stop looking at him. His eyes had hers trapped. Buffy shook her head. “No.”

“So ‘f I do this…” he reached out a hand and slipped it round her wait, tugging her closer, until her breasts pressed against his chest.

In spite of herself, her breath hitched. She was a Slayer, his equal in strength. If she wanted to, she could push him away. And part of her wanted to do just that, give him a shove and send her tumbling…but the other part wanted to stay like this, with him, forever. She let out a sigh, feeling her body relax against his.

The small smile on his face widened. “I thought so.” His other hand came up, settling at the nape of her neck and tilting her face up. “See, ‘f you didn’t care about this, you wouldn’t ‘ve let me pull you into the darkness.”

There was something distinctly wrong with that sentence. If her heart would stop beating so loudly, Buffy would have been able to figure it out. “I’m not…”

“You like this,” he whispered, trailing a finger down her cheek. “You like me touching you.”

Again, she didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. He’d put her under thrall as neatly as a vampire.

“I can see it,” he whispered, eyes nearly glowing as they bored into hers. She should pull away…but God help her, she couldn’t. Every touch he gifted her with, every brush of his skin against hers, made her want more.

“It’s inside you,” he said, tangling his fingers in her hair. “The sunshine. Dancing, playing. It fights with the darkness, and the darkness cries out. The stars hear it crying, my sweet. The darkness wants to be left in peace.”

OK. Was it just her, or did Spike sound like he was on glue? Buffy knew she should do something—anything—to make him stop, but she couldn’t make herself move. “Spike…” she whispered weakly. “Don’t—“

He put a finger to her lips. “Shh. Mustn’t interrupt. It’s very, very rude.” He lowered his lips to her neck. “Besides, this is a special moment. We should pause and savor it.”

He paused—for a second his hold on Buffy faltered, and she almost cried out—but then, before she could do anything, she heard a quiet, feminine chuckle, and sharp teeth sank into her neck.

She cried out. Well, anyone would have. But she knew it was futile, knew that whatever was happening, no one would hear her. No one would save her. Still, she screamed. At that moment she wasn’t the Slayer—she was an innocent girl being preyed upon, one who knew she would die, and yet was unable to move a muscle to prevent it from happening.

“Buffy? Buffy!” A deep voice yelled her name, once in confusion, then again in panic. She felt something thud into the body sucking blood from hers, and it crumpled to the floor. Suddenly able to move again, she slapped a hand to her neck, fighting the searing pain that came from having the vampire’s teeth ripped out of her neck so quickly.

Her rescuer handed her a handkerchief, which she immediately pressed to the wound. She gaped at him. “Angel, what—“

Face grim, he pointed to the crumpled figure on the floor. Buffy became sick when she finally saw her attacker for who he—or, rather, she—was.

A long white dress enveloping a pale figure with dark, smoky hair. Face still contorted in an insane, vampiric snarl.

“Drusilla.”

~*~
 

Chapter 9:

~*~

“Drusilla?”

Buffy couldn’t believe her ears—or her eyes. “I thought you said she wasn’t coming back!”

Angel’s face twitched; on a normal person, it might have been a grimace. But then, Angel was neither normal, nor a person. “I thought she wasn’t.”

She put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare. “Explain.”

“Buffy, it’s—“

“If you say complicated,” she said calmly, “There’s a very good chance you’ll get the kind of splinter that makes you go all dusty.”

He looked hurt. Well, she couldn’t really blame him—she was being an uber-bitch. But hey, his crazy-ass ex had masqueraded as Spike. She’d made out with his crazy-ass ex. As far as Buffy was concerned, he definitely deserved a little abuse of the verbal variety. “Why are you being like this?” he asked her.

Oh, great. Hurt-puppy look. “Why am I being like this? Angel, your vampire ex just decided to go all lesbo on me! She made me think she was Spike!” Oops. Buffy stopped, realizing belatedly that she was screaming at him in the middle of the Bronze.

“Someone call my name?”

She turned around to a very welcome sight: the other Slayer was standing just behind her, holding two drinks and looking puzzled. “Buffy, who the ruddy hell is that? And who’s the chit on the floor?”

Buffy sighed. Oh, goody, ‘spainey-time. My favorite. “Angel,” she said wearily, “Meet Spike, the other Slayer. Spike, meet Angel, the vampire with a soul. And Drusilla, who’s the crazy vampire on the floor.”

Predictably, both men exploded. “Vampire with a soul? How the hell is that even possible? An’ ‘f that girl’s a vamp, why isn’t she staked?” Spike demanded, coming closer to examine the unconscious body on the floor.

“Slayer? Captain Peroxide there is a Slayer?” For the first time since she’d known him, Angel was sneering.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Okay, you can tone down the sarcasm,” she informed him. “Yeah, Spike’s a Slayer. It’s a long story, okay? And so is the soul-having thing,” she cut in hastily before Spike could say anything, “So can we just not?”

Spike instantly looked concerned. “What’s wrong, pet?” he asked, setting down the drinks. “Did she hurt you?”

No, she just made me think you were all horny and wanted to go at it in the stairwell. Buffy blushed bright red. “Um, no…she was just doing mind trick things. Drusilla’s kind of psycho that way.”

“Wait—Drusilla? The vamp’s got a name and you haven’t killed her yet?”

“Geez, anal much?” Buffy snapped. “Of all times to go uber-Slayer, now is very bad. Drusilla is Angel’s ex, okay? When Angel was all grr he drove her nuts and then vamped her. So it’s kind of a touchy-feely thing.”

Now he didn’t look pissed off, just amused. “Your life’s a ruddy soap opera, did you know?” he said, looking at Drusilla with new speculation. “So the poof used to be evil?”

“Huh?” Buffy frowned. “What’s a poof?”

He smirked, nodding at Angel. “I b’lieve in the States the polite term is faggot.”

Okay. That really shouldn’t have amused her as much as it did—and she shouldn’t have had to suppress a giggle at the look on Angel’s face.

“You’re steppin’ out of line, boy,” he muttered, glaring at Spike.

The blonde only snorted derisively. “Right. An’ what’re you gonna do, Peaches, kill me? ‘ve staked more of your kind than I can count.”

“Only takes one,” Angel shot back.

Okay. Enough was enough—and Buffy didn’t really want to have to stake Angel, but she totally would if he so much as tried to kill Spike. “Can we stop it with the macho pissing contest, please?” she said impatiently. “Because seriously, I came here to have fun.”

Spike abruptly dropped the glaring act. “Right,” he said, dismissing Angel, “What’re you gonna do ‘bout the bint there?”

“I’ll take care of her,” Angel muttered.

Buffy smiled at him, hoping to smooth the situation over. “Thanks, Angel.”

Oh, great. Now Spike was glaring at her, and Angel was looking distinctly smug. “I’m glad to be able to take care of it, Buffy.”

Now it was her turn to look annoyed. “Don’t push it, Angel.”

“Right.” He bent down and picked Drusilla up; a second later he was gone. It was a testament to how weird Sunnydale was, Buffy thought wryly, that not a single person seemed to think it was weird to see a broody-looking guy carrying out a pale girl in a dress.

“Well, that was one of the stranger things to happen since ‘ve got here,” he remarked. “Is it always this wonky ‘round here?”

Buffy shrugged, willing herself to forget what had happened with Drusilla. It wasn’t Spike, it was a crazy vampire…it was just someone who looked like Spike, and God it was sexy…no! Not sexy! Sick and wrong!

“Pet? You there?”

“Huh?” Buffy looked up, startled. Spike was watching her with a concerned look on his face. “Um, yeah. Sorry.” She forced herself to smile. “I just got all spacey.”

“Right, then.” She could tell he didn’t altogether believe her, but luckily he dropped the subject. “So, now that I’ve got you to m’self again…” he began with a suggestive grin.

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head resolutely. “No way are you weaseling your way out of meeting my friends.”

“Oh, c’mon.” He pouted at her—she could almost feel her knees getting weaker. “Please?”

Scratch that. She could feel her knees getting weaker, and she didn’t like it. Not one single bit. “No,” she snapped. “Now come on. I’ve kept them waiting long enough.” She started walking back towards her friends, hoping that he decided to follow.

Funny how even above the music she could heard him muttering angrily—but luckily, he set off after her.

Willow and Xander were chatting companionably when she got back. “Hey, Buff,” Xander greeted her. “Took you long enough.”

She fought off a blush. No. You didn’t do anything wrong, because the whole thing with Drusilla was totally fake. And the fact that you thought it wasn’t and that Spike was coming on to you even before that doesn’t mean anything. Nope. Not a single thing.

“There was, um, trouble,” she stuttered. “Drusilla’s back.”

“Oh—oh wow.” Willow’s eyes bugged out. “Back as in…”

“Back as in, fully sane, powerful, and doing the weird mind tricks,” Buffy finished for her.

“Oh, God. She’s not going to try to vamp me again, is she?” Xander asked. “Because not so big on the fang-having. And hey, is that Spike?”

“Um, yeah. Spike, this is Willow and Xander.” Her friends nodded at the guy beside her with a lot more equanimity than Buffy herself could have managed. “Willow and Xander, this is Spike.”

“An’ these two pals ‘f yours know about you bein’ the Slayer, right?” Spike asked, smirking.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “No, Spike, everybody in Sunnydale knows about Drusilla and other vampires.”

“Actually, it’s entirely possible that they do,” Xander pointed out as Buffy and Spike sat down. “I mean, how high does a town’s body count have to be before people start getting suspicious?”

“Pretty high, apparently,” Willow said.

Spike snorted. “’s the sun,” he said. “Fries all your delicate Yank brains—ow!” he broke off to glare at Buffy, who’d jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “Bit delicate there, pet.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What happened to you that you could possibly be—“ she broke off, realizing that he was looking at her with what could only be called cynical amusement. Blood rushed to her cheeks when she recalled exactly why both of them have bruises. “Um—never mind,” she said in a small voice, hurriedly taking a sip of her Pepsi and darting glances at Xander and Willow. Her friends didn’t look confused—no, to her humiliation, they actually looked embarrassed.

“So, you two…got in a fight?” Willow asked, looking doubtful.

Spike smirked. “You could say that,” he said, giving Buffy a lascivious look. “Was certainly violent enough…”

Okay. That was it. Buffy narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. “I kicked his ass,” she said to her friends, keeping her eyes on Spike, “Because he was getting on my nerves.”

“You kicked my ass? That what you’re gonna be tellin’ people, Slayer?”

“Wait—you did something to his ass? Buffy, that’s disgusting!”

“I didn’t!” Buffy exclaimed, mortified. “We just got in a fight!”

“Got in a fight? You had your hands aaall over my hot little bod,” he teased, running a hand up and down her back.

She threw it off violently. “If you’re going to be such a jerk, Spike, why don’t you just leave.”

He had the nerve to look wounded. Wounded! After all the crap he’d just said about her! “I was just kiddin’, Slayer. D’you really think now’s the time to be so damn touchy?”

She was about to respond with exactly what she thought about him accusing her of being touchy when she happened to catch a glimpse of Willow and Xander’s expressions. They both looked completely disbelieving of her behavior.

She closed her mouth, feeling incredibly disgruntled. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just in a bad mood.”

“’s alright, kitten,” Spike said, grinning at her. “So, how’d you two find out ‘bout Goldilocks, here?”

Xander and Willow immediately starting talking about how they and Buffy had come to be friends. It made for an interesting story—interesting enough that, to her relief, Buffy didn’t have to talk much. Aside from answering the occasional question, she was silent for the rest of the night…mulling over the problem that was Drusilla.

~*~

Angel slipped through the alleyways quickly, wanting to get Drusilla deposited somewhere quickly. He planned on taking her and putting her in the middle of the town, where she’d dust the second sunlight touched her.

Just because he couldn’t bring himself to stake her didn’t mean he wanted her threatening Buffy.

He rounded a corner and came to what passed for the town square. He lay her down gently on the bricks, wincing when her head hit them; well, he did have a soul. And when he was Angelus, Drusilla had been important to him.

He watched he for a moment; being a vampire, she didn’t have to breath, so it was difficult to tell if she was ever going to wake up. But then, he didn’t care. You can’t care, he told himself firmly. Drusilla was evil; that was all there was to it. Resolutely, he turned and began to walk away.

He’d gotten two streets away from where his former love lay in the moonlight when he sensed another presence. He whirled around, shifting into game face. “Who’s there?’ he snarled angrily.

“Angel?”

He relaxed immediately. “Buffy. What are you doing out here?”

She stepped forward hesitantly. “I just…I wanted to make sure you handled Drusilla alright.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “What’s she to you?” he asked, unable to keep the mocking tone out of his voice.

The Slayer smiled faintly. “I know she matters to you,” she said, walking closer, keeping her eyes on Angel. “I know…how you feel about her.”

Angel took a step back and fell onto what appeared to be a mattress. The fact that there was a mattress in the middle of a street didn’t strike him as odd, for some reason…he knew it should…

“Buffy—“ he began—but he halted when he saw that she stood in front of him, wearing nothing at all.

“Shh,” she said, putting her finger to his lips. “Now’s not the time for talking.”

Before he had a chance to say anything—before he could protest, ask a question, or even gasp out her name—she had flicked open his fly and drawn him inside of her.

Heat. Soft, squeezing fire, all around him, fire that he hadn’t felt in almost one hundred years. Angel let out a strangled cry, gripping Buffy’s hips, forcing her down further on his cock. Buffy only smiled and moved her hips against his, bringing him closer, closer…

When he exploded, his eyes and mouth opened in a strangled cry—one that became very real when he saw who was riding him, who suddenly vamped and sank her teeth into his neck. But it was too late; his orgasm had come upon him, and all he could do was ride it out as the vampire drank from him. “Buffy!” he gasped, a prayer, a cry for help—and then he passed out on the mattress.

Minutes slid by; the vampire next to him cooed and kissed him, lapping up blood from the rapidly healing wound.

A little while later his eyes opened—yellow—predatory. He could feel the hunger, rising up in him. Hatred. Cold, crystalline fury. The need to torture, to feed, to kill.

Angelus turned to a sex-rumpled, smiling Drusilla. The younger vampire cupped his face, cutting her thumb on one of his fangs and hissing in delight when he sucked the blood from it.

“Welcome back, Daddy.”

~*~
 

Chapter 10:

~*~

“I still don’t see why he has to come!”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to keep him cooped up all day, Buffy, that would be mean!” Joyce put her hands on her hips in what Spike was starting to think was the universal Mum gesture. “You are going to let him come with you, and that’s final, Elizabeth Anne Summers!”

She was cute when she was annoyed; it was something he’d observed many times over the past few days. “Why the hell does he even have to come? He’s nineteen, he already graduated from high school!”

“Language, Slayer,” Spike scolded, grinning. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself, using that word in front of your mum.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are so lucky that in America it’s illegal to kill people.”

“Buffy!”

“Well, if you don’t want me to be rude, you shouldn’t make me stay around him!” she exclaimed. “It’s bad enough that I had to spend all Sunday with him—now you’re going to make me play tour guide!”

Joyce took a deep breath; the set of her jaw suddenly reminded Spike of her daughter. Bloody stubborn, these Summers women were. His eyes flicked over to Buffy, taking in the short skirt and form-fitting top.

Stubborn, but damn hot.

“Buffy,” Joyce said slowly, enunciating every word, “If you continue to refuse to be a decent hostess, I will ground you until it’s time for you to graduate.”

Spike grinned at the small blonde eagerly awaiting her answer.

But he was destined to be disappointed. Jaw set, clearly murderously angry but unable to do anything about it, Buffy growled, “Fine.”

“Good. Now, have a good day, sw—“

She never got a chance to finish; Buffy grabbed her bag and stalked out the door.

Joyce turned to Spike with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry. She gets so touchy sometimes…”

’specially given that her knickers are in a twist because the lack of touching lately, Spike thought smugly. During training yesterday she’d been giving out more signals than the average satellite dish, and Spike had deliberately ignored all of them. “’s alright,” he answered Joyce. “She’s a teenage girl, yeah? They’re hormone bombs.”

Joyce smiled at the description. “Just...Spike, can you do me a favor?”

Something in her voice made him stop and look at her more closely. “Yeah?”

“Can you—can you watch her for me?” She tried to smile, but it was wobbly at best. “I know, it’s silly—she’s a Slayer, with all kinds of powers and knowledge, but—she’s my baby, and knowing that she’s in danger every day and night, it’s just—“ She broke off, closing her eyes. “It’s silly, but knowing someone else will be there, someone who can protect her—“

“I get it,” he said softly. And he did. Did Buffy realize how lucky she was, havin’ a mum who cared so fiercely about her? He could see that it tore Joyce apart every day, knowing that her child was the one who had to fight the darkness. “’ll watch her, Joyce.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” Two words, but the warmth in them conveyed more gratitude than Spike had ever heard coming from one person before.

He shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, right. Not a problem. ‘d best be goin’ now.” He started for the door.

Joyce patted his shoulders in a motherly manner. “Have a good day, and don’t forget to come home and tell me if you two are going to be going anywhere after school!”

Spike grinned at her before walking over to the Desoto and sliding into the driver’s seat; Buffy was already in the passenger seat, her arms crossed moodily. “I won’t,” he called, and waved at Joyce, before putting the key in the ignition and leaving the driveway.

Buffy didn’t speak; he hadn’t expected her to, really. Bint was more stubborn than even her mum, and he knew she was mad at her.

“So, ‘ve never really been to a high school before,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Silence.

“Giles yanked me outta school when I was a little bugger—only ten years old. Started training me.”

Still silence.

“When did Jenny find you?” He was careful to keep his vice neutral, not wanting to betray that he really wanted to get her talking again. Just because he’d deliberately goaded her yesterday didn’t mean he wanted her to ignore him for the rest of eternity.

Finally, she decided to answer. “They didn’t think I’d be the Slayer,” she said quietly, “So the Watchers didn’t find me till after my first vampire attack.”

Spike sucked in a breath—his first little outing with vamps had been tough, and that was after five years with Rupes. “What happened?”

“I burned the school gym down. That’s why we’re in Sunnydale.”

He fought to restrain his laughter. “You burned down a whole gym?”

“It was a small one!” she said defensively, “and there were a lot of vampires in it!”

Spike shook his head, unable to keep himself from chuckling. “Hell—what I wouldn’t give to ‘ve seen that.”

He saw her roll her eyes. “It was boring. Buffy runs in, Buffy drops torch, Buffy runs back out and locks the door. Very amateur.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, “But considering you didn’t have a Watcher…”

She shrugged. “Still not all that impressive.”

It was amazing, he mused, how incredibly nonchalant she could be about something that would’ve had most people, Slayer or not, positively full of themselves. “Sorry, luv, but I think it is. One girl with no training, getting rid of a nest of vamps?”

“At the cost of a multi-million dollar school building,” she pointed out.

He pulled into the Sunnydale High parking lot. When he cut the ignition, he turned to her. She was looking out the window, her full lips pulled into a pout. Unable to help himself, he reached out and turned her head towards him. “Money or not,” he said softly, “You saved human lives. You’re a hero, kitten. You can’t wiggle out of that.”

She didn’t respond, which he figured was a good thing; meant she wasn’t arguing with him. Instead she just stared at him, her eyes boring into his. He looked back steadily. Man could get lost in those eyes. Hazel, bordering on green but sometimes almost blue. He had gotten lost in them before—he was now.

“I’m not a hero…” she whispered, staring at him. “Not any more than you are, at least.”

He didn’t want to admit how much that statement affect him, how much he wanted it to be true. “Well, we’re both Slayers,” he said with a slight smile, tilting his head to look at her. “Though you gotta admit, I can kick your ass any day of the week.”

She snorted, but didn’t move her eyes away from his. “Yeah, right. So never gonna happen.”

“You know ‘m ‘bout to kiss you, right?” he said, moving closer to her and resting a hand against her cheek.

She nodded; her own hands came up to hold his shoulders as she leaned towards him. “I kinda figured,” she said breathlessly…

And their lips met.

It was a strange kiss—exploratory, gentle, but at the same time desperate. The first time they’d kissed, they both hadn’t known what the hell was going on. Now they both did, and they were, if anything, even more confused.

Spike knew that if he had even the tiniest amount of common sense, he’d stop and think about what the hell he was doing. But common sense wasn’t exactly a priority right now; the girl in his arms was soft, warm, and, for the moment at least, his.

She was making little noises, not quite moaning, and running her hands down his back. “Spike…” she whispered against his lips.

He didn’t pull back, only traced her bottom lip with her tongue. “Yeah, luv?”

“Snyder…”

He pulled away from her, a frown on his face. “Who the fuck is Snyder?” he snapped, annoyed at having her interrupt them to say some idiot’s name.

Wordlessly, she pointed at the driver’s side window. Spike turned around to look—and jumped about a foot in the air. Glaring into the car was one of the ugliest blokes he’d ever been unlucky enough to see. “Who the fuck—“ he began again—but the man outside answered that question for him.

“I am Principal Snyder, in charge of this school, and you are two miscreants who need detention,” he informed them, his voice carrying through the Desoto’s only partially closed windows.

Bloody hell. He tried to kiss his girl and got some rat-like man on his case. Wasn’t that just typical? “Look, mate, ‘m not—“

“I am not your mate, I am your principal, and I suggest you shut your mouth, young man, before you get in even more trouble than you already are!” Snyder narrowed his eyes at Spike dangerously. “I could expel you, if I wanted to.”

Spike had had enough. He let go of Buffy, yanked off his seatbelt, and threw open the car door, causing Snyder to take a few steps back.

He wasn’t the tallest bloke in the world, and he knew it. But Snyder was shorter—and Spike had the menacing Slayer look about him, something he’d used to his advantage many times before. “You know what, rat-boy?”

“Excuse me! I am the principal of your school, and I refuse to allow you to speak to me that way!”

He leaned against his car. “I can talk to you however the hell I want, Snyder. ‘m a visitor, not a student.”

Snyder’s narrow face suddenly became devious; Spike felt his stomach clench. Shit. “And who is the student you’re visiting?”

“Uh, you probably don’t know her,” Spike said quickly, “She’s pretty new, real nice girl…Buffy Summers?”

“Unholy glee” suddenly took on a whole new meaning. Spike watched as a self-satisfied smile spread across the little man’s face. “You know what this means? Suspension for you both!” he cackled, before raising his voice. “Ms. Summers! Out of that car immediately! I need to have a word with you two.”

Spike watched as Buffy got out—her little face looked murderously angry. He clenched his fist in an effort to keep it from slamming into Snyder’s face.

Oh, balls.
 

Chapter 11:

“I can’t believe this. You got us suspended before the day even started!”

“I got us suspended?” Spike snorted derisively. “Takes two to tango, Blondie.”

“Yeah, but—“

“An’ besides,” he continued, “Technically, we didn’t get suspended.”

“What are you talking about? Snyder stood there and said—“

“That you were suspended,” Spike said with a smirk. “Didn’t say anythin’ ‘bout me.”

He regretted teasing her a second later when she punched his arm. “Ow!” he yelped, holding the spot. “Bloody hell, Slayer. Tryin’ to put me out of action?”

“If it means you stop being ego-guy, yeah,” she replied pertly.

“Y’know, any other chit ‘d be glad for a vacation,” he grumbled. “Why can’t you be?”

“Because I have to spend it in the house all day with you!” she yelled. Several passerby gave her odd looks, but her glares made them hurry on soon enough.

Spike stopped and rolled his eyes, leaning against a lightpost. “You are, without a doubt, the strangest person ‘ve ever had the doubtful pleasure of talking to.”

She scowled at him for the insult but cocked her head curiously, saying, “’splainey?”

“You don’t have to stay in the house,” he told her. “Hell, you don’t even have to stay in Sunnydale ‘f you don’t want to. You’ve got a fifteen day vacation.”

She was the only person who could look stupefied when he stated the obvious. “I can?”

“Well, yeah.”

Her eyes slowly widened as a devilish awareness came into them. “Go anywhere I want…do anything I want…for fifteen days.”

“That’s pretty much the size of it.”

A grin spread across her face and, quick as lightning, she grabbed his hand and tugged him down the street.

“’ey! Watch it, Slayer! Where the bloody hell are we going?”

Her eyes were glinting more than it ought to be proper for a hero-type when she said, “Shopping.”

~*~

She was evil. That was the only explanation.

Spike had been dragged all over town, from store to store, and not once had they been stores that he’d actually wanted to go in. Jewelry stores, girly clothes stores, once a Babies R Us—but never any store where a bloke could find somethin’ interesting to do.

Now it was almost six in the evening, and they’d taken a break to eat at the food court in the mall. Buffy was sipping a milk shake and pouting at Spike. “Come on, please? We haven’t even hit the good stores yet.”

Spike shook his head resolutely. “We’ve been at this all day. ‘m tired of it.”

“Spi-ike,” she whined, pouting at him.

He’d managed to avoid touching her, kissing her, since they’d been sitting in the car. Now he wanted to jump her in the sodding food court. Shit. “No, Buffy,” he snapped, more harshly than he’d intended.

She instantly dropped her eyes, lips thinning. “Fine then. Be that way.”

“Bloody—“ He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Whoever’s listenin’—mind givin’ me some patience? “Buffy, ‘s not that I don’t like it when you drag me from one girly store to the next for nine hours, but you realize we haven’t gone in a single store I actually wanted to go in?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I thought guys didn’t like shopping.”

“’s not all ‘bout buying clothes and jewelry, love. Bet there are stores in Sunnydale you’ve never even given a second glance.” He smiled condescendingly at her, inwardly praying she’d take the bait.

She did. “Oh, please. You’ve only been in Sunnydale for three days. Like you could show me anything I haven’t already seen.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Wanna make a bet on that?”

Spike absolutely loved it when she tilted her nose in the air like that. “You’re on,” his Slayer said snootily.

He felt himself smile. “Right, then,” he said slyly. “Close your eyes an’ follow me.”

“What?” Buffy asked, utterly appalled. “I’m not going to—“

“Oh, c’mon, Slayer,” Spike whined. “’s daylight, not like ‘m gonna take you to be eaten by a bunch of vamps.”

“I’d feel them anyway,” she retorted. “But either way, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw the bathtub.”

He snorted. “You could toss it ‘cross town an’ we both know it.”

“Well, okay, fine.” He had the satisfaction of seeing her roll her eyes before huffing impatiently and, crossing her arms, closed her eyes.

He grinned and took her hand, glad for a chance to touch her—and surprised when, contrary to what he’d figured would happen, she just squeezed his fingers and allowed herself to be led down the sidewalk.

They probably made a rather odd pair, but he knew that in a town like Sunnydale, hardly anyone would notice and no one would care. Couldn’t possibly be stranger than seein’ pale people dart about under blankets all the sodding time.

Down two blocks and one to the right—she was starting to get antsy. He didn’t blame her, really; ‘f she’d tried to put him through what he was forcing her to put up with he’d have probably refused. Still, he was glad she hadn’t. He’d caught sight of this little shop on their way to the high school, and he was determined to visit it. The fact that she was along for the ride just made it that much more fun.

He led her to the entrance of the shop and then, caressing the inside of her palm with his thumb, he said, “A’right, you can open your eyes.”

The second those alert hazel eyes snapped open and read the sign on the shop, he knew he was in for a bit of a fight. “Fenwick’s Used Book Store?” she said in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bet you didn’t know it existed, did you?” he asked smugly.

“Well—okay, no,” she admitted, “But why would I want to know about some musty old bookstore.”

He could barely believe his ears. “Musty old bookstore? You’re starin’ at a treasure trove, luv.”

“A treasure trove.” She was blatantly skeptic, but at least she wasn’t makin’ fun of him.

“Hell, yes. Anything could be in there. These aren’t just shiny new books, fresh outta the factory without even a good history to recommend ‘em. These are books with history, with souls, with—“ Suddenly he stopped, embarrassed. Right, then. William the God-Awful Ponce, front an’ center.

“You were a huge geek when you were littler, weren’t you?” she said, looking at him thoughtfully.

He knew what she’d say—knew he was settin’ himself up for any number of cutting insults to be delivered by her—but he couldn’t stop himself from telling her the truth. “Well, I did have Giles for a Watcher,” he replied as lightly as he could. “An’…well…yeah. Till I was ‘bout fifteen, I was a little wanker.”

“What happened then?”

“Same thing that happened to you, I guess. Some vamp tossed me on my ass, an’ I grew up.”

For a second she was silent; he prayed she wouldn’t start tossing insults at him. Ponce he may be, but he honestly didn’t like fighting with her constantly. A lot of the time, yeah, but not all the time.

“Okay,” she said finally, smiling a little. “Let’s go in, then.”

He stared at her. “You’re not gonna rib me?”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes at him playfully. “Do you even remember meeting Willow?”

Well, she had a point. He grinned and followed her in.

~*~
 

Chapter 12:

Musty bookshops? Definitely not her thing. But outside, Spike had looked so heartfelt, so vulnerable, that she would have had to be a huge jerk to just refuse to go in.

And now she was sort of getting into it. He hadn’t turned it into a big ha-ha-I’m-right-you’re-wrong sort of thing, so she was okay with just hanging out in here, browsing through some musty shelves. In fact, Buffy had found one really interesting 1980’s bodice-ripping pirate romance that looked like it had drool marks on it…

She was investigating a passage that looked particularly well-thumbed when she felt two arms steal around her waist.

Almost against her will she relaxed into them—then stiffened when she felt him pressing against her. “Bookshops make you horny?” she asked, giggling.

“No,” he purred, rubbing a hand up and down her stomach. “Bein’ alone in a small, dark space with a hot little blonde makes me horny.”

Because she, Mensa candidate that she clearly was, had chosen the most remote corner of the shop to do her browsing. Real smart, Summers. “Well, you’re going to have to get over it,” she said primly, “because if you think I’m going to—“

He silenced her by spinning her around, pressing her against a bookshelf, and kissing her.

The second her lips touched his—before that, really, if she was going to be honest with herself—electricity raced through her. She scooted up a bit against his body, wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling the bookshelves dig into her back and not caring in the slightest. All she cared about was his hands moving all over her fervently, arousing feelings in her she’d thought only existed in cheesy romance novels…his lips, so skilled in their teasing kisses that she’d beg for more if he made her…and his hips, dear God, his hips, moving against hers and driving her absolutely insane…

“Spike,” she gasped, pulling away from him—but her hands stayed where they were, fisted in that oddly soft hair, and both pairs of hips kept grinding against one another in that almost obscene manner.

“Somethin’ you were—aaah, fuck—gonna say, luv?”

“What if—ooh!—someone sees?” Her lips returned to his, tongues battling. Really, she didn’t know where all their energy came from…she couldn’t remember ever being quite this desperate before….or at least, since the last time they’d kissed.

“Then they’ll get a show,” he growled, peppering kisses up and down her neck. “Nothin’ in this town we can’t kill ‘f we want to, anyway.”

She moaned in acquiesce, not bothering to answer verbally. She was too busy feeling his incredible lips as they sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and nipped it—and at the same time, his hand moved to her breast, tweaking the nipple he found there.

This was incredible. No, this was beyond incredible. She was so going to kill Giles and Jenny for keeping Spike away from her for so long. After she and Spike were done here…which she hoped didn’t happen for a really, really long time…

“Buffy?”

Spike’s lips froze on hers; his hand stayed on her breast, but to her dismay, he was no longer playing with it. She could almost feel his anger radiating from him when he growled, “What the fuck do you want?”

Buffy slipped out of his embrace when he faced Angel, fury sparking in his eyes. The vampire just raised his hand; a thick volume of what looked to be poetry resided there. “I was just here to get a book.”

“An’ that required disturbing us?” Spike snapped. “Bugger off.”

His eyes stayed unreadable; Buffy shifted nervously. Usually to her, Angel’s eyes were transparent. It was like he channeled all the emotion he refused to show on the rest of his face into them. Now, though, they were almost glassy. “Angel?” she said uncertainly. “Are you—are you okay?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed, and a second later, his voice sounded in her head. What the hell are you up to, Summers? Why do you care about this ponce’s health?

She gasped—well, she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t every day someone decided to start talking to her in her mind! “What—how—“

Spike was apparently just as surprised as she was—his eyes had gone wide and he darted a glance at Angel before saying quickly, “Just answer the girl’s question, Peaches.”

“I’m fine,” Angel said harshly. “Buffy, I need to talk to you about things—Dru and all that. Can you meet me in the graveyard tonight?”

Ordinarily she would have agreed to it without a second thought; what could one repent-ey vampire do to her? But today, for some reason, she was feeling a lot less sure about Angel. “Sure,” she said, smiling perkily. “Spike and I will meet you there.”

His eyes, those oddly glassy, almost malevolent eyes, narrowed for a second before he smiled hollowly and said, “Okay, sure. See you both there.”

Without another word, he walked away, presumably to find a sewer that would lead back to where he lived.

Buffy glanced at Spike; his eyes were on Angel’s back. Ever muscle in his body was tense. “Call me crazy, but did he seem just a little bit off to you?”

“A little bit? He’s never been like that before,” Buffy replied, frowning. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He was acting—“

“Evil?”

Buffy looked up into the implacable blue of Spike’s eyes, surprised. “Angel? No way,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“He’s a vampire, pet. They’re not known for their cuddley goodness.” He winced as soon as the phrase came out of his mouth—bloody hell. ‘m even startin’ to sound like her!

“Yeah, but Angel has a soul.”

“Does that mean he can’t lose it?” Spike asked solemnly.

Buffy looked up at him, surprised. He’s serious, she realized. He really thinks that Angel may have…that he’s evil again. “I—I don’t know,” she stuttered. “He’s—Spike, I don’t think—“

He relaxed a little when he saw her confusion, pulling her back into his arms. “Shh, kitten,” he said, rubbing her arms gently. “’s okay. I’ll go with you tonight, an’ if the ponce is evil again then we’ll deal with it then, a’right?”

She nodded, sniffling. “Sorry. It’s just, I don’t—“

“Want to have to put down a friend like a mad dog?” He smiled crookedly. “I get it.”

She felt a sudden rush of tenderness, an odd feeling considering she and Spike usually spent all their time antagonizing each other. “Thank you,” she whispered, savoring their closeness and putting that odd psychic connection thing out of her head for the time being.

“Sure,” he said, hugging her briefly before releasing her—but not letting go of her hand. “Wanna go home an’ be bums, then?”

She laughed at his description, and they walked out into the sunlight together…neither noticing the two pairs of eyes that followed them as they left.

~*~
 

Chapter 13:

They’d been in the house for an hour. They had both eaten, joking around, and now they were standing awkwardly in the kitchen, trying to fight the attraction they could feel and ignore the burgeoning psychic connection that had asserted itself in the bookstore.

In short, there was a huge, multicolored elephant standing in Buffy’s kitchen, and they were both pretending it didn’t exist.

She watched him shrug, seemingly uncaring. “Dunno. Got some movies?”

Further proof that she was definitely as evil as he’d accused her of being—Buffy could feel a grin spread across her face as she thought about what sorts of movies she owned.

“Sure,” she said, that smile still in place. “And I know exactly what we can watch.”

She went out into the family room, expecting him to follow her. What she didn’t expect was to heard his voice once again reverberating in her skull.

So, Summers, you gonna make me watch a girly movie?

She jumped, spilling the DVDs she’d been holding out onto the carpet. Holy shit! Don’t do that!!

You’re such a girl.

Well, duh, she shot back sarcastically. I am just a little bit of a girl, you know.

Suddenly she felt him behind her, his hands pulling her backward. I know that, he all but purred.

To her everlasting shame, she damn near melted. His voice even sounded sexy in her head. Are you always this horny? she demanded irritably.

He grinned as he released her. ’f I answer no will you be nice an’ indulge me?

Hmph. Guys are so stupid, she grumbled, walking over to the video player.

“What’s that, luv?” Spike asked aloud, his tone teasing, as he sat down on the couch and propped his boots up on the coffee table.

“Boots down,” she ordered. “And I said, Guys are really stupid.”

“Oh, really? Think ‘ll have a few insults ‘f my own to throw around before the movie’s over. Bet you picked some girly flick.”

She forced herself to smile vaguely. Will you tease me about it in my head? she asked curiously.

He sighed. “Yeah, I kinda figured you’d be askin’ that.”

“Do you understand why it’s happening? I mean, why are we all with the mind-melding?”

“Maybe ‘cause we’re both Slayers?” he suggested.

She wrinkled her nose as she thought. “Would that be enough to make us be all psychic together?”

“Hey, ‘m not exactly an expert,” he said, shrugging. “’ve got no bloody idea what’s goin’ on right now.”

“But didn’t you say you’d been training for, like, ever?”

She rolled her eyes at him as he snorted; it hadn’t been all that stupid a question. “Been training for almost a decade, but just the fighting stuff. Giles learned early he wasn’t gonna shove some nancy-boy book learning crap into my head.”

“But…don’t you have to know stuff? You’re the Slayer!” Buffy protested, remembering vividly all the nights when Jenny had forced her to sit down and memorize dates and facts and a bunch of other boring stuff that she couldn’t have cared less about.

“Please. ‘f the Watchers had their way, Blondie, we’d be sitting in a schoolroom all day,” he told her. “Haven’t you ever stood up to Jenny b’fore?”

She could remember the one time she’d tried—the fury in Jenny’s eyes and the promises that made what vampires did to the humans they tortured look like fun and games. “Um, no.”

“Wimp,” he said with a grin, his tongue between his teeth.

She made a face at him and plopped down next to him on the couch. “Oh, like you’re not.”

“’ey! I’ll have you know ‘m just about as non-wimpy as they come, you silly bint.”

“Is that a fact?” Buffy could feel an evil smile spreading across her face as she held up a video in her right hand.

Spike stared at A Walk To Remember with what could only be described as horror on his face. “That’s below the belt, luv.”

“Well, then,” she said, popping the video into the VCR, “We’ll just have to see how much you have down there, huh?”

As the opening credits started rolling, she could hear him almost whimpering. “Sodding girly flicks,” he muttered.

“Shh!” Buffy ordered, her eyes already glued to the screen.

She was busy watching the (in her opinion, riveting) adventures of Landon and his less-than-honest-friends when she felt Spike’s arm slip around her wait and pull her closer to him. She shot him a warning look, half expecting him to start tickling her…but keeping his eyes on the TV screen, he smiled. One thing this movie has going for it—you’ll be sobbing like a baby by the time it’s done.

Despite the fact that she’d seen it five times and had done just that, Buffy retorted, I so will not! And anyway, you’ll cry, too.

Right. You go on livin’ in your little dream world, pet.

You totally will. Anyone who watches Dawson’s Creek is a shoo-in for this movie. They’ve probably done some kind of experiment on it.

Who said I watched Dawson’s Creek? he said indignantly.

You did. When we were shopping, remember?

A pause. Then: Oh, yeah. Dammit.

Buffy giggled aloud. “Now hush,” she ordered. “It’s getting to the good parts.”

He snorted but obeyed her request. They were both silent throughout the movie, though when Buffy glanced over at Spike she found him alternatively absorbed in the movie and raising a definitely sardonic eyebrow at it. He can’t admit he’s actually liking it, she thought smugly.

I’d admit I liked it ‘f I did, pet, he suddenly informed her. Which I don’t. Landon’s a bloody idiot.

How did you hear that? she demanded. I wasn’t talking to you!

Well, you weren’t talking to anyone, he replied. But c’mon, pet, you were thinkin’ so loud I couldn’t help but hear it.

Thinking loud? Now she was going to have to worry about privacy in her thoughts, too? Buffy groaned. “This really can’t get worse, can it?”

“Well, ‘s a two-way street. If you wanted to take a dip in my head you could.”

“Really?” Somehow the idea had never occurred to her before…wrinkling up her nose, she projected her mind towards his.

Suddenly, a myriad of colors and sounds whirled about her. She could feel her feet still securely resting on her living room carpet, but her—did they call it consciousness?—was stuck in what she could only guess was Spike’s head.

Images all but attacked her—she saw Giles’s face often, and vampire bumpies showed up a lot, too. Blood, rather a lot of it, and a kind-faced older woman that she guessed was his mother.

“Buffy? Buffy!”

“Huh?” she blinked and found herself staring into Spike’s concerned face. Unable to help herself, she smiled weakly. “Oh. Hi.”

“Where’d you go, luv?”

“Into your head.” She frowned. “Kinda literally. Is it all ‘this is your brain on drugs’ when you go into my head?”

“On drugs?” he asked, amused. “’s that what you saw, pet?”

“Never mind,” she said dismissively. “It’s an American thing. How can you sort out my thoughts in all that mess?”

Now it was his turn to look confused. “There’s a mess?”

She nodded. “A big one. Didn’t that happen when you went into my head?” When he continued to look dumbfounded, she elaborated. “You know, lots of swirly colors, some pictures…?”

He shook his head. “Think you’re goin’ a bit deeper’n I bothered to, luv. I just sorta skimmed your mind—caught onto the stuff that was right there on the surface. Your thoughts.”

It was totally unfair, the way he could make it sound so easy. Buffy scowled at her male counterpart. “You know what? I completely hate you sometimes.”

He rolled his eyes. Bloody irritating bint.

“Hey! I heard that!”

“See? You’re making progress.”

Starting a Slayer on Slayer smackdown in her living room wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Buffy was mature enough to acknowledge that. But she really, really wanted to. “So, all you ever do is insult me, huh?”

Spike’s smirk disappeared when he saw that she was actually semi-serious. C’mon, you know I wasn’t serious!

No, I really don’t. I’ve known you for—how long? Two days?

Uncertainty was coursing through her, and she was pretty sure he could feel it. She was getting irritated with herself, because she was being stupid and girly and teenager-ey, and she knew it, but at the same time, she couldn’t help herself. Some part of her was desperate for clarification about this thing they had going.

Yeah, during which we’ve fought an’ nearly shagged more’n could possibly be healthy.

What? No! We didn’t shag! There was no shagging!

Sarcasm radiated from him when he replied, Right. You go on believin’ that, luv.

Tears filled her eyes. So, that’s what I am? Some random, slutty girl who happens to be able to kick your ass?

“What the—balls,” Spike said, frustration in his voice. The statement seemed to echo in the house, which for all the emotion-charged communication had been completely silent for the past few minutes.

When she didn’t respond—because what could she say?—she heard him move until he was sitting next to her on the couch.

His fingers brought her chin up until she was looking him in the eye. “I don’t think you’re just a potential shag, luv. ‘f I thought that, I’d be out trollin’ that club of yours right now. You’re a brilliant, irritating, bloody beautiful chit, an’ there’s not a chance in hell I could ever think ‘f you as anything else.”

It was corny beyond belief, but Buffy found herself smiling. “Irritating, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, grinning shamelessly. “’m not gonna turn into a complete poof and start singing your praises, so don’t hold your breath.”

She smiled slightly and moved towards him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Thanks,” she said, releasing him.

Their eyes met, blue and hazel, warmth and coolness. After a moment Spike coughed uncomfortably. “So…’s almost six-thirty. We’d best be gettin’ down to the cemetery so Peaches doesn’t wet himself wondering where we’ve gone.”

She rolled her eyes at him but hastily hopped off the couch. “One great thing about Southern California—no coats needed,” she teased him as he grabbed his coat on the way out.

“What can I say?” Spike smirked as he opened the door. Buffy was jamming on her shoes. “Old habits die hard.”

“Yeah, right,” she joked as they left. She was careful to lock the door—demons weren’t the only thing in Sunnydale that would like to get into her house. They had a fair number of burglars, too.

“You know, I really think you only make fun of Angel because he’s just like you, minus the bleach,” she continued as they began to walk.

“Am not!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the immaturity of his protest. “Yeah, right. You go on believing that,” she teased as they rounded the corner and kept walking, out of sight of Buffy’s house.

Crickets chirped as the chatter of the two blondes grew more and more distant. The light in the front of the Summers’ home burned steadily, warding off the encroaching dark.

Angelus stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch. In his hand was a small bundle, one that he carelessly dropped at Buffy’s doorstep. Taking out an object from his pocket, he laid it on top of the package. A hollow smile graced his lips.

“And the games begin.”

As he disappeared, following the pair of Slayers as they made their way to the cemetery, the severed finger he’d dropped onto the package bled sluggishly into the paper of the envelope, staining it dark red.

~*~

 

Chapter 14:

Two hours earlier…

“I’m just saying, I think they’re kind of…intimate,” Jenny said as they watched the teens leave the bookshop.

“I’ll admit there’s a certain amount of chemistry,” Giles admitted. “But really, do you find it so abhorrent that there is? We’re not altogether platonic, either.”

Jenny smiled, walking her fingers up his chest. “I know. You really couldn’t wait to jump me last time, could you?”

Giles’s look turned darker and he skimmed a hand down her back, pulling her closer. “I still can’t,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

“Now, now…what would your Slayers say if they caught you at this? It’s a disgrace, it is.”

Giles and Jenny jumped apart. The British man’s eyes narrowed. “You must be Angel.”

The vampire smiled crookedly. “Would you look at that? I’m famous,” he said, his voice lightly mocking.

Giles felt Jenny go tense beside him. When he looked at her questioningly, she shook her head and said to Angel, “You seem…happy. Did you spike your blood?”

He chuckled at that. “Now, Jenny…why don’t you just say what you’re thinkin’? We both know I’m a pet theory of yours.” He held up a manila folder. In Jenny’s slanted cursive writing was written his name.

Giles was becoming rather confused at that point, which irked him to no end. “Jenny? What does he mean, a theory?”

“Our lovely little pagan’s been explorin’ my soul.” Angel smiled; somehow, it seemed an abomination. “She’s got some nifty little theories about it. Seems she thinks that maybe, just maybe, my soul might not be as safe as you think it is.”

Suddenly, Giles felt sick. Not the sort of nausea that one garnered after eating too much; no, this feeling went much deeper. Angelus. The Scourge of Europe, the vampires even higher order demons had reason to fear. A pure sadist, who enjoyed causing pain above all else.

He was back…and looking Giles straight in the eye.

“Your soul,” Jenny blurted out, clutching her companion’s arm. “How—“

“Now, now, Jenny—we don’t have time for pleasantries,” Angelus said with an almost gently rebuking smile. “I’ve got places to go, other people to kidnap…”

Before Giles even had a chance to process that statement, Angelus was beside him, twisting his arms behind him. “You don’t mind if I borrow the pretty little Gypsy, do you?” he hissed, and brought the bookend down on Giles’s temple.

He passed out immediately…before Jenny even had time to scream.

~*~

The graveyard was dark. Well, duh; it was nighttime. But somehow, to Buffy, the graveyard seemed darker than usual. “Spike?”

“Yeah, pet?”

His voice was oddly comforting, slicing through her fear and placing an almost visible damper on her uneasiness. “Is it just me, or is it darker out here than usual?”

He shot her a look, sharp blue eyes taking in the uneasy lines of her face. “Bloody—are you scared?”

“No!” Buffy winced; her voice was high, shrill, and entirely unconvincing. “Well, okay, maybe a little,” she admitted. “It’s just…what if Angel really did lose his soul?”

Spike forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. He, unlike Buffy, was rather well-educated in the more famous of vampires. The idea of Angelus loose upon the world again chilled his bones. “Dunno, luv. ‘ve heard…stories of what Angel was like b’fore he was cursed.”

“But you said you’d never heard of Angel before!”

“That’s b’cause I hadn’t,” he said flatly. “As far as the Council is concerned, after he got his soul, he dropped off the face ‘f the earth.”

“And now you think he’s all ooky, like he was before he got it?”

Spike sighed. There weren’t words to describe how much he was not looking forward to giving this particular nugget of information to Buffy. “He wasn’t just ‘ooky’, Buffy. He was…he was the worst.”

Buffy was silent; he could feel just enough of her emotions to know that she was measuring up all she’d seen over the past few years with what ‘the worst’ could possibly be. “Oh my God,” she whispered finally, fear coming into her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in him?”

Both blondes whirled upon hearing the mocking voice. Smiling congenially, Angelus strolled out of the shadow of one of the mausoleums.

Buffy’s fists were up in a defensive maneuver in seconds; Spikes’ followed. “Get the hell outta here, Angelus,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

“Now, now, Willy,” Angelus said patronizingly. “I’m not here to talk to you. It’s the girl I want.” He leered at her. “In more ways than one.”

He recognized that rushing one of the worst vampires in the history of vampirism was not the wisest thing to do. Unfortunately, pure instinct had taken over; and now, his instinct demanded an attack upon the creature who’d hurt his girl.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled—but it was too late. Angelus had dealt him a blow that sent him sailing backwards, where he smacked into a stone statue and fell solidly to the ground.

Ow. Was it just him, or was the world spinning? Spike struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the way everything looked like he was taking a trip to the carnival funhouse. Buffy had her stake out now, and was circling Angelus with what could only be called deadly intent.

“Don’t you want to talk, Buff?” Angelus asked, sounding almost like his usual, perpetually wounded self. “I gotta say, I was expecting a warmer welcome.”

“Yeah, well, flinging my boyfriend across the cemetery wasn’t a very good way to get one,” Buffy snapped. She ducked when Angelus rushed at her, kicking him in the back and flinging the stake at the exposed spot between his shoulder blades.

Buffy had never seen a vampire move so quickly—one second, her stake was about to get real well acquainted with his heart, and the next, he’d whirled around, caught the stake, and hurled it to the ground.

Angelus glanced over to Spike, who was still struggling with almost crippling dizziness, and laughed. “The Chosen Two,” he said between snickers. “An infatuated little girl and a boy who can’t seem to go two seconds without seeing double. Oh, this will be fun.”

Buffy couldn’t help herself; she threw a punch at him, followed quickly with a flying front snap kick that at least knocked him down. “Did you have any reason for coming here?” she asked waspishly as he got up. She knew better than to try to attack him again. Spike had called him the worst; before she wanted to square off against the demon who’d stolen Angel’s body, she wanted to talk to Jenny and find out just how bad he was.

“Not really,” Angelus drawled. “I’ll just tell Jenny you said hi. She’s just dying to see you again.”

Realization hit: Jenny. She’d been fighting Angelus—not even fighting him, really, more like taking pokes at him—and his minions had been taking Jenny from her. “You bastard!” she screamed, right before she launched herself at him wildly.

Buffy, no!

She heard Spike’s voice echo in her head…right before Angelus’s fist slammed into her face, tearing skin and bursting blood vessels.

Angelus kicked her ribs in contempt. “You know, I’m rather disappointed in the two of you. Maybe this won’t be as much fun as I’d thought.” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to go torture your Watcher, then.”

She passed out, of course…but she had plenty of time to scream before she did.

~*~

Buffy! Dammit, Buffy, wake up! You silly, stupid little chit, if you don’t open your eyes soon I swear to God I’ll rip your sodding throat out!

Probably not the best way to ensure that she’d wake up, but Spike wasn’t feeling particularly logical right then. All he knew was that he hadn’t been able to get to Buffy in enough time; that Angel had hit her and she’d crumpled like a rag-doll, unable to fight him.

He knew that when she woke up, she wouldn’t blame him. For all her ornery ways, she wasn’t a jerk; she’d recognize that when he was so dizzy the ground kept comin’ up to meet him, not being able to watch her back wasn’t his fault.

But he felt like it was.

“Buffy, please,” he said desperately, grabbing her shoulders and hauling her into a semi-upright position. “Please, pet, wake up.”

“Mmmpf,” she muttered, her head lolling to one side. And ugly purple bruise marred the right side of her face, glistening by virtue of the tears staining her cheeks. “Jenny,” she whispered, agony in her voice.

“No. Buffy, no. She’s not dead, jus’…we can get her out, Goldilocks, but you gotta wake up. C’mon, luv, don’t do this to me! Wake up!”

“S-Spike?”

Her voice was weak, tremulous, but in light of her waking, he hardly noticed. “Buffy!”

“Yeah, that would be me.” She grimaced as she tried to sit up. “Spike, we have to get to Jenny, Angelus said—“

“Shh.” He slipped his arm beneath her legs and picked her up, standing with no difficulty. “We’ll get her back, luv, but we have to find Giles first.”

“Where’re we going?” she mumbled, stirring restlessly in his arms.

“We’re gonna swing by your house an’ grab some weapons. Hopefully, Giles’ll be there, too.”

”If he’s not?” There was dread in his girl’s voice, and it made him tighten his hold on her.

“He will be. He’ll be waitin’ and we’ll go an’ get Jenny. It’s all gonna be fine.” He walked a little more quickly, some small part of him drawing hope from the way she, even in her half-conscious state, clutched him so tightly.

He was more than a little worried for the old man, as well as Jenny. He knew that if they didn’t find the two soon, then they might both be Angelus’s next playthings. So as he walked, he repeated his assurance to Buffy over and over in his mind, a mantra that he refused to relinquish: It’s all gonna be fine.

~*~
 

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