Buggers267@aol.com

Summary: Set around mid-season 2, Giles' long-lost and rebellious son arrives in Sunnydale to wreak havoc for the Scoobies...especially for Buffy and Angel.
Disclaimer: Characters not mine, all Joss and Mutant Enemy's. Just like to see how much mess around with them when I can.
Pairing: Well let's put it this way. There's B/S AND B/A. This is the first in a series, so there's mostly B/A, but as I am a hardcore Spuffer, I promise, this WILL turn out B/S.
Feedback: Please, please, I'd love it.
Author's Note: This story is pretty AU, set around mid-season 2. However, since I'm the one in control, I've switched around things, time-wise. Events of "School Hard" never happened, Buffy is still with Angel before he turns again, and Willow is with Oz, an out-of-the-closet werewolf.

Chapter One: First Impressions Are the Most Important
"SON?!!" Buffy, Xander and Willow all yelled simultaneously in Giles' direction. Only the ever-laconic Oz remained silent, gazing at the hapless librarian intently.
"Yes, I have a son. About you're age, and um . . . he'll be moving to here and attending Sunnydale High."
The two Scoobies and the Slayer all stared, mouths hanging open, eyes glazed with amazement. "Why didn't you tell us about him, Giles?" Willow asked softly, her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders.
"Well I would have . . . but it never seemed to have come up in all our hours spent fighting the forces of darkness," Giles mumbled, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket to wipe his glasses with intense feeling.
"Back up." Young Xander Harris held up his hands in the air, dramatically imploring for reason. "Not really grasping the concept. Giles having a son? Giles procreating? Giles procreating . . . with a woman??"
"That's usually how those things are done," Oz said.
"Who votes for major ickiness over the idea of Giles actually having sex once in his lifetime?" Xander continued, waving his hand high in the air. Buffy's, Willow's and Oz's hands followed. Giles fidgeted where he stood.
"Look here all, I'm just telling you . . . this in hopes that you'll do your best to make my so-him feel comfortable in this new environment."
"Why now?" Willow continued with the questions. "I mean, w-why is he moving here now? Where has he been all this time?"
"He's been living with his grandmother all these years in London. H-his mother, um . . . died when he was very young, about nine actually, and um, well, I was not equipped to take care of such a large . . . responsibility, so I left him with his mother's mother." Giles' eyes clouded briefly as he told the story. The rest understood and sympathetic silence hung over the room. Giles awoke from his reflective trance and continued. "Well, anyway, it appears that his grandmother has fallen ill, and can no longer take care of him, so she wanted to send him to place she knew he would be well taken care of."
"So she opts for the safety haven of the Hellmouth," Buffy quipped. "Gotcha."
"I simply wish that you can help him feel more acquainted here, that's all I ask."
Buffy nodded, seriously this time. "Don't worry Giles, we'll roll out the Welcome Wagon for your progeny. If he's anything like you, I'm sure we'll all got along just fine."
Suddenly a large crash erupted in the direction of the library doors. They had been thrust open with a violent force, so that they swung haphazardly off their hinges. A young, lanky, strikingly handsome and shockingly blond teen stalked into the library, black duster hanging off his slim, yet muscular frame. "Hey Pops," he said in a predatory, British accent, a cigarette protruding from his mouth. Giles, shook his head, walking up to his smirking son and grabbing the white cancer stick out of his mouth.
"No smoking, William, this a public high school, remember?" Giles glared testily at the boy, who simply responded by curling up his lip in a smirk reminiscent of Sid Vicious. He glanced over his father's shoulder to catch a view of the four other astounded teens that sat seated at the table. Giles turned around as well, sighing as he prepared to make introductions.
"Umm, all . . . this is my son . . . William."
Xander, Buffy, Willow and Oz just gazed at the figure clothed in black leather and cotton who stood next to the twitching, tweedish librarian with stupefaction.
"Yeah," Buffy murmured, shaking her blond head absently. "I can really see the resemblance." Kind of cute, she added to herself. In a Sex Pistols, grungy kind of way. Got that tall, dark and handsome thing going for him. Well, except for the bright, blond hair. Kind of like Angel . . . but not really. She suddenly broke into a soft smile at the thought of her undead boyfriend.
"That is your . . . son?!!" Xander blurted out. "That carries all your . . . Giles-y genes?"
"Hey!" The bleached-blond lad interjected. "I've got a name y'know. It's Spike."
"Spike?" Xander and Buffy both exploded into laughter. "Reality check, um, Spike, but you're in a Californian suburb, not the mean streets of Hell's Kitchen. Here, we go by regular names like Xander, or Buffy." Xander sank in his chair with a highly amused look on his face.
"Right." Spike smirked, shoving his hands in his duster. "Those are names you give a domesticated bunny or ferret, or apparently, namby-pamby chits like you." Xander and Buffy's faces immediately hardened. Okay so maybe "nice" doesn't fit into that "tall, dark and handsome" equation, Buffy reflected. She had immediately decided that she didn't like this new character. Giles cleared his throat, well aware that his son was failing to make a good impression on the Scoobies.
"Right well, William---"
"Spike," Spike corrected.
"William," Giles gritted his teeth. "You've met Buffy and Xander, um over there are Willow, and um, Oz." Oz nodded peaceably at him while Willow shyly waved.
Spike snorted. "And other stunning examples of the sensible name-picking that goes on here in Sunnydale." He cocked a disdainful head at his father. "These were the bloody buggers you were tellin' me about? Oh, I can already see they're a soddin' fun bunch, they are, if they got nothing else to do 'cept hang around in a musty old library with the likes o' you."
"Hey!" Xander irately sprang up from his chair. Willow placed a calming hand on his shoulder, easing him down as she politely approached Spike, holding out her palm.
"Um hey . . . Spike, your father has told us . . . well nothing about you, but uh . . . welcome to Sunnydale all the same."
"Thanks." Spike hesitated before accepting Willow's hand in a rough shake. "Not surprised Daddy dearest over didn't tell you squat about me though. How like him." His face darkened as he turned to glare at Giles who twitched and bit his lip with impatient discomfort.
"Um, yes well . . William---"
"For the love of!!!" Spike whined. "I told you to call me Spike! It's what my mates called me back in London, can't you at least try to remember it's Spike!"
"I'll call you what I damn bloody well please!" Giles exploded, his patience wearing thin. He sighed as he glared at his stony-faced son. "Look, all I want to know is have you correctly registered, visited the principal, gotten your locker, so on and so forth?"
Spike maintained a venomous glower towards Giles. "Yeah, I met with the bloody headmaster. Feisty little poofter he is too."
"What language are you speaking?!" Xander discourteously exclaimed. "I mean what's all the 'bloody' 'sodding' 'poofter' 'bugger' junk? Geez, he's talkin' the crazy talk from Foreign-land."
Spike scowled. "It's called English, you wanker. You Yankee blokes wouldn't even be speakin' it if it wasn't for us saving your arses in World War II."
"Um excuse me, but it was us who saved you're crumpet-spouting, high-tea-falouting asses in that war, not the other way around." Xander in turn shot daggers at Spike, who irately stalked up to Xander to connect his fist to the boy's nose.
"Enough!" Buffy yelled, exasperatedly separating the two, who had apparently become quick nemeses. "Look . . . Spike." She squared her teeth resolutely as she stood up against Spike, poking him with a perfectly manicured finger. "Why don't you back off?"
Spike smirked lazily as he gazed down at the slight, skinny blonde. "Ooo, I like this one. Testy, she is." He did like her, despite the harsh, cold look she was presently giving him. She had a surprising air of someone tough as nails and fearless, all eclipsed in a fragile, sixteen-year old body. Spike was readily intrigued. "Give us a kiss, luv," he whispered huskily pressing his lips together in mock affection. Buffy, both disgusted and uncomfortable, suddenly became aware of her close proximity to her unforeseen wooer, and backed away.
"Hey no inappropriate macking on Buffy!" Xander protested. "She leaves that to her friends." He pointed an emphatic finger towards himself.
Just then, Cordelia Chase sauntered into the library, which was already in emotional shambles as Buffy and Spike glared at each other, Xander muttered hateful epithets under his breath directed towards Spike, Oz and Willow sat in uncomfortable silence and Giles felt ready to explode from parental distress. "Hey losers. Which one of you wants to write my English paper for me? I have no time, Bloomies is having their huge semi-annual sale and I have some major shoppage to do." She paused as the occupants of the library grimaced at her. "What? There'll be riding privileges involved. I'll take you anywhere you want for a week in my convertible." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Wait, no, let's make that a day. It's not like you guys will have that many places to go anyway, probably just here and the Bronze and here and the Bronze . . ."
"Cordelia!" Giles gave her a steely glance. "We're sort of . . . in the middle of something."
"Pfft, like what, I---hey who's that?" Cordelia turned her attentions to Spike, who suddenly perked up when he heard that she had a convertible. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the gorgeous young boy and she unconsciously licked her lips.
Giles tiredly attempted to introduce his son to a smiling Cordelia, but Spike pushed him out of the way. He paused to give a once-over gaze of approval at Cordelia's tiny outfit of a miniskirt and baby tee.
"The name's Spike," he said genteelly, taking her hand and pecking a kiss to it. "Happy to make your acquaintance . . .?"
"Cordelia," she finished, smiling coyly. "You're new."
Spike nodded, smirking. "Yes, I am. I'm uh," he cocked his head at Giles. "Rupert here's son."
"Rupert?!" Giles started angrily. "Who said you could call me that?!"
"Giles? Having a son? That's of the wow." Cordelia incredulously turned to him. "You actually impregnated some girl?"
"That's what I said!" Xander chirped, but his face soon fell as he realized he actually agreed upon something with his mortal enemy.
Cordelia soon turned back with great interest to Spike. "So Spike, this is your first day huh? How do you like Sunnydale High so far?"
He made a face towards the rest of the group. "Not exactly feeling rays of welcome thus far, it's lookin' to be sort of a drag."
Cordelia scoffed. "You mean these losers?" She waved a dismissive hand at the rest. "Whatever, they totally do not represent what Sunnydale is all about."
"Yes, yes, they've got Cordelia and Co. for that," Xander agreed. "And you'll be soon finding that Sunnydale is a bitchy, whiny, ho-ish place to live in." Cordelia glared at him.
"What are your classes?" She continued, sidling up suggestively towards Spike in a way that made Buffy's eyes roll.
"Um, first period, biology, second, P.E., third, Trig, fourth, American Literature," He paused to snort critically. "Like there's a fat lot to that class. That's a bleedin' oxymoron if I ever heard one."
"Oh, you have Ms. Randall," Cordelia pointed out. "Major bitch she is, the key is to suck up like you have never sucked up---"
"Yes Cordelia knows all about the sucking," Xander couldn't help but adding. Once again, menacing sneers were exchanged.
"Well Spike." Giles suggested, desperate to get Spike out of his hair momentarily, "H-how about Cordelia s-show you around school, let you become familiar with the premises?" Spike nodded his head amiably in agreement but whipped his hand out.
"Need money."
Giles frowned, wiping the heavy perspiration from his forehead. "What?! Whatever for?!"
"For a package a' smokes."
Giles gritted his teeth. "Spike. This. Is. A. School. No. Smoking. Allowed."
Spike shrugged. "Fine then. I need it for . . . school supplies. Yeah, school supplies. Freshly sharpened number two pencils and that sort."
"You just said you needed them for cigarettes!!!"
"I changed me mind. I want to start off as a bright, successful student here."
"No!! I'm not giving any money!! Not when you just said you needed them for cigarettes!!"
Spike's face hardened. "I should 'ave known. Can't expect Daddy here to even care a twopence about providing for his own son, not when he's been ignoring him for the last seventeen years."
"That's not fair, William," Giles sighed.
"IT'S SPIKE!!" he yelled before sharply turning to make his exit. "Come on, Christina," he mumbled, as he stalked away.
"It's Cordelia!" Cordelia called as she raced after him. After the two left, Giles collapsed into a chair and cradled his head miserably in his arms.
"He seems . . . nice," Willow voiced weakly.
"Kinda intense," Oz reflected.
"Gotta say, not really feelin' the love," Xander mused, waving towards Giles.
"Yes, well, I must say I can't expect Will---er, Spike to feel very . . . familial towards me, not after all this time. I suppose he still has deep-rooted anger towards me. He hasn't really ever gotten over the death of his mother, and he certainly hasn't seen me around for support."
Buffy shrugged. "So he has mommy issues. No big."
"Is if you're Norman Bates," Xander pointed out.
"He is quite a handful," Giles conceded. "A little more than what I bargained for. His grandmother did mention he fell into a wrong sort of crowd back in London. She did hope so that I would do my best to . . . um, reform him."
"You got us for that!" Willow brightly smiled, sending the perkiness factor of the room sky-high. "Big ol' reformers, we are." She nodded towards Oz who affectionately brushed her hair from her face.
"Yes, I do hope you all try your best to make him feel comfortable. I do realize he is rather . . . unsociable. But please . . . if only for me."
Buffy sighed, knowing that as much as she instantly disliked Spike, she remained devoted to his father. "Don't worry Giles, we'll try our best."
"Yes, well . . . Oh! And um, can I trust you all to um . . . ix-nay on the Ayer-slay?"
"You want us to not tell Spike about you being a layer? What?" Xander wrinkled his brow in confusion. Giles threw his hands up in frustration.
"No! What I'm trying to rather unsuccessfully voice is, um . . . do try to keep it down about Buffy being the Slayer. And me being her watcher. And Sunnydale being the Hellmouth capital in general."
Willow's eyes widened. "You mean Spike doesn't even know that you're a Watcher?"
"Well, I jolly haven't gotten around to telling him. Around the house it's more like hostile silence followed by . . . well, hostile silence."
"Sounds sure homey," Xander reflected, thinking of his own home environment.
"Gotcha, Giles. Mouths zipped shut about anything demon-y," Buffy nodded. "From the looks of it, it would probably excite the guy, rather than freak him."
Giles nodded, suddenly looking very, very tired as he rubbed his head. "Yes, I think it would."


Chapter 2: Fitting In

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual activity. Jocks tossing around the ol' pigskin, much to the dismay of the cafeteria staff, girls whispering feverishly about the latest gossip about Jenny Mitchell and Hogan Martin going out, nerds conspiratorially discussing the virtues of the Starship Enterprise as opposed to the Starship Voyager, shy wallflowers gazing weakly as they silently munched on the inedible sludge they called the daily lunch platter. Buffy, Oz, Willow and Xander all sat amongst it, happily lost in their own world of banter.
"Why do they call it Jell-O? I mean, there's no O-ish aspect to it at all. I've only seen it in squares at this cafeteria. Shouldn't they call it Jell-Square? Jell-Cuboid?" Xander shook the giggling mass in his hands.
"You are a man of deep reflective thought, Xander," Oz observed, draping his arm around Willow's chair.
"So Buffy, how's the Dark, Handsome Avenger?" Willow asked attentively, turning to her blond best friend.
Xander ducked and blushed. "Oh come on Will, I'm right here."
Buffy gave him a playfully chiding look. "You mean Angel? Dunno. Haven't really seen him these days. He's kind of in brood-mode. Does that every other full moon."
"Yeah, that full moon will trap you into all sorts of nasty habits," Oz said. "Which reminds me, you gonna hang in the library with me tonight, you know, keep watch, make sure I don't get all publicly wolf-y?" He turned to Willow, who nodded.
"He came by the graveyard, last few minutes of patrol last night. Said that we could meet up at the Bronze tonight. Kinda excited." Buffy grinned dreamily, lost in girlish romantic fever. Xander snorted disdainfully. Suddenly Willow sprang up, her hand waving furiously in the air. All the rest averted their gaze to see whom she was gesturing at.
Spike. Xander's look of disapproval burned deeper into his countenance as he caught sight of Spike sulking into the cafeteria, gazing around absently. "Him. Don't invite him over here!" Willow shot Xander a chastising look.
"Xander! Giles told us we have to be nice to him. Besides, he's in my math class. He's really nice . . ." She frowned when she saw all the disbelieving stares. " . . . Once you get to know him," she added. "Hey Spike!"
Spike gazed around to locate her voice and stopped when he saw her. Nervously, he tried in vain to look around for anyone cooler to sit with. "M-maybe he can't see us," Willow reasoned, frowning when he didn't come right over.
"Oh he can see us," Buffy mumbled. "He's just playing All-High-And-Mighty-Of-the-Lunchroom." Finally, sighing, Spike gave up and approached them.
"Hi, Red," he said smiling friendly-like at Willow. He nodded towards the rest. "Umm, Xander, Oz . . . Betty."
"It's Buffy!" Buffy clenched her teeth. No matter what Giles says, I don't like him. I can be nice to him, but I don't have to like him.
"Hi Spike!" Willow greeted him pleasantly. "How's the first day going?"
He shrugged. "Alright, I suppose. That Cordy girl who showed me around s'a really chatty bird, in't she? Nice-looking I suppose, but you can't ever get her to shut her bloody gob." Buffy restrained a giggle at Spike's accurate description of Cordelia. Shocked she was nearly caught laughing at one of Spike's jokes, she sunk into her chair.
"Yeah, Cordelia's something else," Willow agreed, frowning as she internally thought of worse euphemisms for Cordelia.
"So tell me," Spike said as he lounged in a plastic chair backwards, his legs hanging over the sides. "What's the what in Sunnydale? What 'ave you all got to do around here? 'Sides cow tippin' I mean." He grabbed an apple off of Buffy's lunch tray, eliciting a venomous glare from Buffy. " So where do all the blokes go?" He continued through massive bites of apple. "Y'know, where's the hotspot in town? Any good pubs?"
"W-we're not really big on pubs in Sunnydale. Oh! B-but the Bronze!" Willow's eyes brightened. "It's really cool, it's where all the teenagers around here hang out."
"The Bronze?"
"Yeah, me and my band play there sometimes," Oz said. Spike turned to him in interest.
"You got a band?"
"Yeah. It's called the Dingoes Ate My Babies."
Spike chuckled, shocking all with his sudden good humor. "Sharp name."
"Yeah, we like to think so," Oz agreed.
"Y'know back in London, I played in a band myself."
"Oh yeah?" A sudden spark of interest surged into Oz's eyes, something that equally took the Scoobs aback.
"Yeah, it was called the Meat Cleavers," Spike grinned proudly.
Oz stared at him wide-eyed. "No . . . really?! I've heard of the Meat Cleavers!"
"You 'ave?"
"Yeah totally! My friend Devin gave me a tape of theirs-yours, when he went visiting some friend in London last summer. You guys rock!"
"Yeah?" Spike looked flattered and struggled to maintain a humble expression. "I dunno, I kind of think we lost focus as we went on, y'know."
"No way! I mean, you guys are really good. Y-you guys know more than . . . like five chords!"
Spike blushed. "Yeah, well, we do our best."
"Wow, I gotta tell Devin that someone from the Meat Cleavers actually goes here!"
"Hey, maybe we can group up sometime, y'know . . jam."
"That's would be awesome!" Oz's face was becoming increasingly flushed as once in his life, he was actually projecting some sort of emotion. It had alarmed and stunned the rest of the lunch table's occupants. Xander frowned furiously, obviously displeased that his only close guy friend was finding so much in common with his immediate enemy. Willow beamed, happy that her boyfriend was getting along so well with her new friend. Buffy just stared, feeling conflicting emotions of disdain and confusion over this suddenly, half-likeable Spike as he interacted peaceably with Oz. The two continued to compare musical techniques and interests, laughing and joking.
"Hey, maybe you can come to the Bronze tonight, hang out with me and the band," Oz said enthusiastically, but his face soon fell as Willow poked him, reminding him gently of werewolf patrol. "Oh . . . except I've got . . . other stuff . . . to do." He frowned disappointedly.
"B-but you should still go to the Bronze!" Willow encouraged Spike. "Go there, meet people, socialize. It's a really fun place."
Spike shook his head. "I'm not gonna go by myself like a wanker."
"Y-you could go with B-Buffy! She's going tonight anyway." Willow pointed out. Buffy's eyes widened in alarmed protest as she kicked Willow under the table. Angel, she mouthed to her best friend silently, who shrugged her shoulders helplessly. Spike looked towards Buffy who stopped mid-furious shake of the head. He gazed at her thoughtfully.
"As much as I would like to hang with a pretty little git like yourself, I've got better things to do," he remarked sourly, abruptly getting up from the table to leave. Buffy heaved a sigh of relief, but frowned when she realized he was half-way insulting her. "Hey!"
"Well I'll be seeing all." Spike nodded towards the table. "Red," he gave a wink, "Always a pleasure." Willow smiled broadly. "And Oz--" he pointed at the teen werewolf, "I'll catch you later, mate?"
Oz nodded. "Definitely."
He turned to Buffy and Xander, who maintained awkward, suspicious looks "Xander . . ." he paused as his lips fell into a sort of suggestive smirk. "Betty."
Buffy twitched uncomfortably in her chair. Something about his gaze toward her was very unsettling. "It's BUFFY!"
"Whatever." With that he stalked away from the table, only to be captured by Cordelia and her screeching group of harlots who rounded up Spike like a helpless animal. They began petting him, smiling at him, clawing at his duster and clothes, and in short leaving him utterly uncomfortable. Harmony in particular took a fervent interest in getting to know him as she chattered on, asking him where he'd previously lived, and whether he had ever been to France before, she heard it was "like, right next to England". Spike shuddered and wondered what he had done to deserve such a fate. Buffy, however, smiled to see he had found a fitting end.
"Looks like we don't need to dole out the Welcome Wagon then," she smiled. "Harm and all them got that pretty much covered."
Xander sniggered devilishly in agreement. "Oh yes, those flesh-eating wenches should make him feel right at home. I give them my well-wishes."
Willow shook her head disapprovingly. "Just remember what Giles said, guys. Let's try to fit him into our little coven of Scoobiness, hmmm?"
Xander and Buffy both sunk in their chairs once more. "Yes Mom," they grumbled in unison.






"So then he's all like 'bloody' this and 'bugger' that and h-he kept calling me Betty! Betty! Can you imagine? What do I look like, some dumb blonde?" Buffy held her hand up. "Wait, don't answer that."
Angel chuckled as he tucked a stray lock of hair under Buffy's ear. " I think . . ." he murmured slowly, quietly, "That you look . . . absolutely beautiful."
She shivered at the cool contact of his fingers on her bare neck. She paused to gaze at him, and suddenly, as usual, they found themselves caught in each other's eyes, letting all the noise and blaring music of the Bronze fade away. Buffy licked her lips unconsciously and gazed down at his. She ducked down to meet his, but Angel pressed a finger to her soft lips to stop her. "M-maybe w-we shouldn't . . . you know . . . cause we're here . . . in a public place," he gasped uncertainly. Dejected, Buffy nodded as she straightened and nervously turned to twirling the straw of her drink.
"Right . . . cause I forgot, you're all non-emotion-y in places with . . . people." Buffy gazed down awkwardly at her hands.
"I just think that certain things . . . are for . . . certain places and certain times." Buffy continued to nod, her eyes hardening in quiet anger. "Like in a vampire-infested cemetery during patrolling." Angel sighed.
"That's not what I mean Buffy---"
"No, you know what?" Buffy held her hand up abruptly. "I got it. You don't really want people to know we're dating. Centuries old-vampire. Teenage slayer. Doesn't really scream conventional relationship, I know."
Angel shook his head in frustration. "That's not it. You think I care about my reputation? Kinda dead, so no reputation to be worried about there."
Buffy sighed. "I know. But then what is it? Because I keep getting this feeling that when we're together . . . you keep drawing back. Like you here . . . and then not."
Angel leaned forward and grasped her by the hand. "You know I'm always here with you Buffy," he said earnestly. She smiled slightly and brought a hand to his cool cheek.
"I know," she whispered. Her smile faded when he gently removed her hand from his face.
"It's just . . . I'm not really used to this whole 'dating' thing. I haven't really been acquainted with it for a couple decades now and . . . I just want things to go right. Slow. Easy." Angel searched her eyes for understanding. Buffy shrugged uncomfortably.
"Yeah. I understand. I should have known it would be weird for you to just hang here at the Bronze with me on a weeknight when your usual itinerary is composed of heating up a steaming cup of spiced liquidy-red goodness." She paused as Angel sighed and ducked his head. "Why don't we do something more . . . us. Patrolling sound good?" Buffy flashed a plastered smile weakly.
"Are you sure Buffy? Cause we can stay here if you really want to. It's not that weird, it's not like I haven't ever been here before, well, more like in-the-shadows-type-here, but still---"
"No," she interrupted perkily. "I want us to have a perfect date. If that includes carnage and demonic death, then count me in." Her face turned more serious. "Just as long as I'm with you." Angel smiled broadly as he surprised her with a small peck on her lips.
"Let's go," he agreed.



"So Giles' son really is like a . . . punk?" Angel shook his head in amazement.
"I know! Think of the weird. I mean, I always imagined Mini-Giles would come out of his mom's womb dressed in tweed and spectacles. He's all Billy Idol-ish, the Next Generation."
Angel chuckled amusedly. "Gotta admit. Stunner that Giles ever got laid back in the day."
Buffy grinned. "I know. That's what we all said. Thoroughly emasculating to Giles, but still."
They walked comfortably, stakes swinging at their sides, through the moon-lit graveyard. The tension faded between then, now that they were in this place of death, the cold marble tombstones providing more comfort than the brightly-lit Bronze could ever give. It was this link, death and slaying, that truly brought them together, provided sense to this anomaly that was their relationship.
"So how's Giles feel about his long-lost son suddenly showing up in ol' Sunnyhell?"
Buffy shrugged. "Kind of tense. I mean, he hasn't seen the guy in seventeen years. He's probably never seen him until now. He feels really guilty about him being MIA from his own son's childhood and Spike is visibly seething about it . . . which I guess I kind of get." Angel turned to look at Buffy, who suddenly turned wistful, thinking of her own much-absent father. "But still . . ." she pointed out. "Doesn't give him a warrant to go all Mr. Joe Rude-o on all of us. Well except Willow. A-and Oz. They all kind of hit it off."
"So basically it's only you who doesn't like him," Angel smiled at her girlish hypocrisy.
"And Xander!" she protested. But considering Angel's feelings about Xander, that didn't do much redeeming.
"So what, Xander's come up with a nickname for him too? Not 'Dead-Boy' that's his affectionate term for me, of course," Angel joked. Buffy grinned and punched him playfully, but Angel grabbed her wrist before she could and brought her close to him, so that their noses nearly touched.
"Time . . . place . . ." Buffy whispered breathlessly, already guessing his intentions.
"Yes . . . vampires . . . patrolling . . ." Angel murmured back before they joined in a soft kiss that soon escalated into something deeper. Buffy let her tongue slide ever-so-gently into Angel's mouth, which he responded to by settling his large hands around her waist and drawing her in to the wide expanse of his chest. Buffy gripped his arms and gasped as they parted a few times. Buffy finally drew back first.
"Wow," she murmured.
"Yeah." Angel rested his forehead against hers.
"No, I mean wow." She looked up and around the graveyard, parting from Angel. "We've been patrolling for hours and we haven't seen one vampire."
Angel wrinkled his brows as he became more conscious of their surroundings. "You're right."
Buffy put her hands to hips impatiently. "I mean, Fridays are usually a free-for-all for vampires, their time to play. So how come we haven't even staked one?"
Angel frowned thoughtfully. "Hmm." He paced the graveyard, looking around recent burial plots for signs of undead resurrection. He bent down and fingered the soil. He looked back up at Buffy. "These graves. There are holes here. These vampires have already risen."
"What?" Buffy neared Angel in haste. "What do you mean? Then where are they?"
Angel grasped some soil in his hands and ran it through his fingers. "It's dusty. It's got vampire dust mixed in." He looked to Buffy once more in amazement. "Someone's already been here, already staked these vamps."
Buffy stared at him incredulously now. "What---you mean slayed them? Like what I do . . . but in the non-Slayer capacity?"
Angel shrugged. "I guess." He turned and sniffed the air, as if he suddenly detected something else. Getting up, he neared some bushes and dove between them, searching for something while Buffy frowned in confusion. He stopped when he found what he was looking for. "Buffy . . ." his voice wavered slightly. "Come here." Cautiously, Buffy stepped up to where he was and peered down in between the bushes. There lay a dead demon, green blood flowing from his horned head, trickling down his pustuled body with a stake protruding from his chest.
"Ewww." Buffy scrunched up her nose in disgust.
"Don't you see Buffy? This proves that someone was here before us, did all the slaying. But who?" He lost himself in thought, face turning broody-like. "Did Giles say he was going to patrol?"
"No. He said he was going out with Ms. Calendar tonight."
"Oz? Xander?"
Buffy scoffed gently. "Oz is all hairy and canine-inclined tonight, and um Xander? Not without direct supervision."
"Well then who? We can't just overlook this Buffy, this is too weird."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed, becoming increasingly suspicious. "How come suddenly someone's doing my dirty work? I like it dirty as is."
"We should go to Giles to tell him about it."
Buffy nodded. "But let's not bother him about it tonight. Not when he's on non-Watcher time." Angel agreed and they walked hand in hand away from the cemetery.

Chapter 5: Secret's Out

"WHAT?!!" Buffy repeated, gazing in shock at a very complacent Spike. "Y-you?! You hunt vampires . . . oh my God, it was you who dusted all the vamps and that one demon the other night!"
"Yeah." Spike puffed up his chest proudly, but frowned. "Wait a second . . . how'd you know 'bout that? And by the by, why don't we re-visit that whole question of 'what the bloody hell did you think you were doin' woman?' Taking on a big ugly by yourself like that?"
"I told you, that's my job! I'm the Slayer. Y'know, crazy chick who plays with lots of weapons and stakes? The actual vampire hunter in this town?"
Spike stared at her, stunned for a second before letting out a huge guffaw that took Buffy aback. "Oh go on!" he said through hearty chuckles.
"I'm serious! I'm the Vampire Slayer. The Chosen One. I fight the vampires and the forces of darkness, I don't have time for bored, testosterone-y, violence-obsessed teenage boys who spend their evenings trying to get killed attempting my job. Do you know how stupid you are?!"
Spike continued to shake his head in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. I can't believe . . . I mean, I heard about 'the Slayer' back in London, but I thought it was the imaginative creation of bloody feminist zealots and that sort."
Buffy sighed. "Well you're wrong. I'm the Slayer. I'm real. I'm no myth. And I have no tolerance for idiots like you who put themselves in situations where I have to duck in and play babysitter. So why don't you take your own advice and leave 'slaying to the professionals'?"
Spike snorted. "Oh please, I've prolly been dusting demons before you grew into those sweaters a' yours, pet."
Buffy glanced down at her tight blue sweater and hugged her arms around herself self-consciously. She glared back up at Spike. "I can't believe you. Do you realize what the hell you've gotten yourself into? Killing vampires for fun, like it's some sort of sick hobby?"
Spike chuckled. "Yeah, it is way better than video games that's for goddamn sure" he agreed. He smiled when he thought of the rush of battle, the adrenaline high he felt when he connected knuckles to skin, listening to the bone crunch under his force. The violence was addictive. As he surfaced from his reflections, he realized he was standing in front of a very disgusted, pissed-off looking Slayer. Clearing his throat briefly, he shrugged.
"I can't believe this," Buffy exclaimed, shaking her head. " I can't believe that my Watcher's---" She paused when she realized what she was saying. She wondered if it was right for her to admit to Giles' identity as her watcher. It would probably blow Spike's mind, to know that his own, seemingly un-cool father was actually well experienced with the very same activity that Spike relished in. She decided against it. "Wait. Does your father know about this? About you being a vampire hunter?"
Spike scoffed. "What you are daft, girl? A' course not. Ol' Man Rupes would blow his top if he heard what I was doing." He suddenly stiffened with fear. "You're not gonna sell me down the river, are you Blondie?"
Buffy thought a while, conflicted before shaking her head hesitantly. "I guess not. But I just don't understand how you could put yourself into such a stupid situation like this. You're just a regular Joe-Schmoe human. I'm the Slayer. I've got all these super-human, Slayer abilities and powers. Super-strength, quick reflexes, ultra-fast healing abilities---"
"God, a bloated head's all you got, Blondie. Way you talk, you'd think you were God's gift."
"I didn't say that. But I do know that I've got powers that you can't comprehend. You act like it's alright that you're doing this, playing the super-human renegade demon killer. But you have no idea what it's like. It's no game."
"You think I don't know that? I know what I'm dealing with, I've been doing it for a long time. Back in London, I was in a gang. A vampire hunting gang. Been in it since yea high. Saw my first vamp at the tender age a' nine. Since then, it's been a part a' my life. Sure the job can be fun, but it's got it's ugly sides too. Through the years, I've seen too many friends die, too many innocent people die. I may not have your Super woman kryptonic powers, but I can't help but do what I do. You think after seeing those bumpies take a chunk out of a human, you can just turn your back and sod it all?" He was staring at Buffy in earnest now, and for the second time this evening Buffy felt a strong pull from his eyes, gravitating her own towards them. They were a fiery blue, she hadn't really noticed before. Then, they sparked with an aggressiveness, a predatory perverseness. Now they were shining with honesty and for a fleeting second, Buffy conceded that Spike definitely had nice eyes. Shaki
"I don't understand. You've been hunting vampires since you were nine?" Buffy asked, an eyebrow arched high.
"A 'course not. I saw my first vampire when I was nine." His face darkened slightly. "Didn't start in the gang till I was 'bout thirteen."
Thirteen. Two years before Buffy herself had first been called. She had to admit that he must have had a lot experience. It was miracle itself that he was even alive after four years of fighting. She herself died after one year. And from the brief demonstration she had gotten tonight, he certainly was quite the well-trained fighter. "I guess you do have a lot of experience then," she voiced aloud.
Spike grinned. "Loads. See this scar here? Here, above my eyebrow. Got that trying to slice up a Kelgfar demon." His eyes misted over briefly as he recollected the memory. "Nasty big wanker, he was. I remember it was one of the first demons I had fought before and Munitz stupidly left me alone, a kid of thirteen for Chrissakes, to deal with it. He throws me a sword that's about four-fifths bigger than my body and too heavy for me to handle. I catch it, but it's lurches over and smacks me, blade side on me face. Munitz sees, laughing his bloody head off while I've got blood runnin' down my bloody face and I'm pissed right? So I wave the sword around in his direction and whaddaya know? The Kelgfar demon's comin' right at me, ready to do me in and I slice his head clean off without even noticing." He chuckled at the memory while Buffy watched him with a mixture of disgust and interest.
"Munitz?" She asked curiously, puzzled as to have stumbled into Spike's mid-narrative recollections.
"Huh?" Spike still was lost in a world of nostalgia. "Oh. Yeah. He was the gang leader. A right good bloke he was. Was in the band with me. Sorta taught me everything I needed to know about slaying, life, stuff in general. Guided me and that sort. Kinda my friggin' Yoda, you might say."
Like Giles, Buffy thought. "So what happened to him? Did he, well was he . . in battle . . ." She let the words linger with tact.
"Munitz? Oh no, the wanker's back in England with everyone else in the gang. And I'm stuck here cause my soddin' grandmum thought I was up to no good. I came home one night after blowing up a vampire nest in an old warehouse and immediately shipped got off here. Stupid bint, she is. Hope she gets bitten good by some nasty." His face darkened again as he lit up another cigarette.
Buffy could almost laugh at the familiarity of Spike's words. That was exactly the circumstances of her expulsion from Hemory and move to Sunnydale. With every word he spoke, Buffy found herself a little less belligerent against Spike and a little more understanding. After all, he certainly understood the whole slaying thing, so there was no need to introduce that there.
"But I guess it's not so bad here," Spike spoke up, drawing the cigarette from his mouth and releasing an easy puff of smoke. "Sunshine, nice climate, lots and lots of vampires to kill. I've never seen so many before in m'life. Not even in London. "
Buffy shifted uncomfortably. She never had really admitted to the strangeness of the Hellmouth to another person outside of the Scoobies before, but Spike seemed pretty experienced enough to understand it. "Well, yeah . . . about that . . . you see, Sunnydale is kind of a strange place. Not exactly Normaltown, USA."
Spike snorted. "You're telling me. First night here, I get attacked by some big-ass Hash'iak demon. You know how smelly those buggers are? Wasn't exactly expectin' a welcome party but still . . ."
"Sunnydale is . . . well it's a place of mystical convergence."
"What?" Spike's eyebrows rose at an alarming rate. "Come again?"
"Ever heard of the Hellmouth?"
Spike shrugged. "In storybooks and the like."
"Not storybooks. Here. We live on it." Buffy nodded in response to Spike's wide eyes. "Sunnydale is located over the Hellmouth, the center of demonic activity in this side of the hemisphere. Lot's of big uglies and baddies are attracted to it and they tend to make a nasty habit of causing havoc here. So it's not really surprising that we have one of the highest fatality rates for a small town in the country."
Spike shook his head, now rumpled with blond spiky curls and sighed amusedly. "Well this has been quite a night. Found out my dad's shagging some bint, some scrawny littl' girl's the much famed Slayer and that I've just relocated to the friggin' Hades of Southern California."
Buffy frowned at the prospect of being titled a 'scrawny little girl'. "Well we deal with it just fine. I guess you'll have to too."
"Oh I don't mind about the Hellmouth bit. Kinda quirky, but at least it'll provide a morbid sense of entertainment. But I really must say, you? As the Slayer? Shocker of my life." He snorted and stepped back to give a slow, languorous glance down her body, squinting hard as if there was some essence of her that was incomprehensible. "I mean, really. Look at you. A prissy little prat who looks more concerned with Saks than stakes. And you get to be the one with all the super-human powers?"
Buffy glared him. The honeymoon was fleeting it seemed. He apparently returned to berating her small size and girlishness and she returned to hating him. "Look, I don't really care what you think about the whole Slayer thing," she said sharply. "Just remember that no one can know about this. No one. My identity as the Slayer as well as Sunnydale being the Hellmouth is conversationally off-limits, get it? This is a whole Clark Kent operation here."
"You don't have to tell me twice. Where I come from, us vampire hunters keep our habits on the lowdown anyway."
"Fine," Buffy agreed. "You don't tell anyone about me being the Slayer, I won't tell anyone about you being a vampire hunter. Deal?" She offered an outstretched hand. Spike hesitated and finally broke into a slow smirk before shaking it firmly, looking deep into her eyes with a half-serious, half-chiding expression. He continued shaking her hand and smirking at her playfully before she snapped her hand out of his uncomfortably long grasp. "Deal," he echoed.



"He's what??!!"
"A vampire hunter," said Buffy grimly, prompting expressions of shock and confusion from every one seated at the lunch table except Oz, who as usual, reclined back in his chair with an air of aloofness.
"Spike? Giles' Spike? Annoying Spike? Mr. Billowing Coat of Re-hashed-Post-Punk-Aspirations Spike?"
Willow poked a sputtering Xander and returned her attentions to Buffy. "That's so weird. Giles' own son is a vampire hunter just like him. I guess it runs in the family. I can't believe they both don't know about each other."
"Well how long are we going to have to keep them in the dark about each other," Xander whined. "Because it's gonna be like some bad episode of Days of Our Lives where everyone knows what's going on, but they're too caught up in their own web of lies to admit to each other that Lindsay's baby is actually Brett's, not his half-brother, Jordan's. And then it will all end badly with Lindsay faking her own miscarriage before Jordan finds the switched paternity test . . ." Xander broke off from his tangent to view raised eyebrows and questioning faces. ". . . Not that I'm an avid viewer of the show or anything," he rebounded quickly.
"Xander does bring up a good, if not convoluted point," Willow agreed. "How long are they supposed to go on not even knowing about each other? They are father and son."
Buffy shrugged. "Well judging from last night's circus, it doesn't look like they'll ever sit down and have a heart-to-heart chat about it." Suddenly, Spike entered the cafeteria with his usual flash-and-crash entrance as he rudely knocked into people.
"Hey!" Football player Larry yelled as his lunch tray, piled high, fell to the ground as a result of Spike's careless saunter by him. Falling to the ground to pick up the remnants of his lunch, he glared at Spike's retreating figure. "Hey!" he repeated again, much more menacingly. Spike stopped, turned around and walked up to Larry, his eyes burning down at his hunched figure intimidatingly. Slowly, Larry rose to full height, towering over Spike as he cracked his knuckles.
"Oh he's in for in now," voiced Xander eagerly as the lunch table watched the drama unfold. "Neanderthal Larry will pound Spike into a peroxided pulp and all will be right with the world."
But Spike did not appear to be backing down. He remained standing upright, eyes squinted, head cocked to the side. He bit his lip and sneered dangerously at Larry, bringing his hand slowly to the pocket of his duster. The whole cafeteria paused and watched, straining their eyes to see what it was Spike was reaching for. But Larry had seen it, and that was enough. Eyes widening, he cleared his throat and gazed at Spike apologetically. "Umm, sorry man. I, uh, s-shoulda looked where I was going." With that, he practically ran from the cafeteria in haste.
The occupants of the cafeteria were all silent for a moment before resuming their usual clatter. They paused a while and regarded the new exchange student with mixed feelings of fear, respect and distrust. The jocks mumbled, the punks nodded appreciatively, the Cordettes sighed dreamily and the nerds cowered as they found that there was just another person in school to potentially whale on them. Even Buffy was impressed. As much as she disliked Spike, she knew how much of a jerk Larry could be. For Spike to stand up against him was pretty admirable. Spike slumped and smirked, lazily sauntering to their table and flopping himself into a chair.
Willow looked to him with awe. "Wow Spike, that was amazing! You stood up to Jerky Larry without even batting an eye!"
Spike shrugged. "Oh, that wasn't much," he said, trying to vaguely disguise his pride.
"Nu-uh!" Willow continued. "That was totally cool! What did you show him to scare him off?"
Smiling, Spike withdrew a small silver knife from his coat pocket. The rest of the table stared in shock. "What?" he said off their looks. "It's just a bleedin' letter opener I nicked from the library. What's the big deal?"
"This is a public school, not Armory-R-Us," Buffy pointed out. "You could get kicked out for just carrying one of those things."
"Oh like Ms. Sunnydale over here is so virtuous. Like you don't have exclusive experience with weapons like say . . . a stake would you?" He clamped a hand over his mouth in mock shock. "Oh dear, did I say stake? I m-meant steaks, you know with A-1 sauce and that sort . . ."
Buffy was not amused. "You can cut the obscenely bad puns, Spike," she sighed. "Everyone here knows I'm the Slayer." Spike's eyes widened as he surveyed all the nodding heads.
"And we know that you're the big bad Slayer wannabe," Xander added.
Spike looked to Buffy with disbelief. "You told!" he yelled.
"Well I had to! They're my best friends! They know all about my . . . Slayer-y things!"
"Yeah!" Xander sat upright proudly. "We're her Scooby gang!"
Spike snorted. "Sounds right manly, Harris. Lemme guess. You're Velma."
Xander ground his teeth. "Listen Spike, don't get too excited. Just because we all know doesn't mean you can go tellin' everybody about it."
"Yes, because it would cause a sensational rumor at this school to hear about your lot's sorry misadventures in following around Blondie like a bunch of drips." Spike's eyes narrowed into mocking slits as he smirked at Xander.
"Enough!" Ever-the-peacemaker Willow separated the two's bickering exasperatedly. "We all know that we know who knows now." She grinned impishly at her own words. "Hehe that's funny." Spike cleared his throat and Willow returned to seriousness. "Doesn't this just show how much we all have in common? I mean now that we know about you Spike, it's guaranteed that we'll end up working together a lot."
"HUH?!" Buffy and Xander cried in dismay.
"Well it makes sense. We're the Scoobs, we fight the forces of darkness . . . well okay, Buffy fights the forces of darkness. But guess who else does? Spike. Besides Buffy, he probably understands slaying more than all of us ever will."
"The girl's right y'know," Spike agreed.
"Excuse me, but I'm thoroughly offended," Xander sulked. "I've done more than my part in defeating the nasties. Think of all the vamps I've dusted."
"What vamps? You dusted that one vampire after Buffy had pummeled him for 10 minutes and he was too exhausted to fight back," Willow pointed out.
"Not just that one! There was also that one time in the back alley of the Bronze when Buffy was cornered by that vamp, all meek and helpless and wearing quite the revealing black jumpsuit and I arrived just in time to save the day, all manliness and macho-like, much to the gratitude of Buf---" Xander paused a beat, searching mentally. "Wait. That just may have been one of my many adolescent daydreams, lemme just think . . ."
"Great." Spike looked disdainfully from Xander to Buffy. "So you let the whelp join into your crime-solving capers just cause he's having puppy love wet dreams about you? That seems gracious." Buffy grabbed her plastic butter knife from her lunch tray and attempted to impale him on it before Willow stopped her. Spike just sat back in his chair and laughed heartily.
"Well I think we do just fine," Buffy continued sharply as she glared at Spike. "Who says we need to have Spike as another . . . Scooby? I'm the Slayer and this is my gig and my gig alone."
"Hey!" yelled Spike, offended. "I'm no Scooby wanker!"
"I prefer the term 'Slayerette' myself," Oz advised sagely. "A little more effeminate, granted, but overall, much more relevant to the circumstances."
"We do not need Spike," Buffy persisted.
"Who says I want to be needed by you all anyway?!"
"Buffy, think reasonably. You can't all save the world by yourself. You tried and guess what? You died. I mean, we do all we can, but sometimes we're not enough. So doesn't it help to have just one more person on your side? Especially someone who can come close to actually fighting vampires besides you?" Willow looked her friend who grudgingly nodded.
"She's right," Buffy mumbled. She turned to Spike and narrowed her eyes. "But let it be known how much I violently dislike you."
"Fabulous," Spike responded indifferently, sitting back in his chair lazily. "So what's this mean? I suppose we're all partners then?"
Willow nodded. "Yup. We officially recognize you as an honorary Scooby."
"It's as I always hoped!" Spike crooned in an exaggerated falsetto.
"You know what we should do? Have a celebration. Like a . . . an initiation party or something!" Willow beamed excitedly. "Oh, I know! T-the Bronze! You haven't seen it yet right? We should go tonight . . . ALL of us! You know, officially introduce you to the typical Scooby haunts. You kinda already been to the other one last night . . . the graveyard that is." She suddenly frowned. "That sounds a lot more morbid out loud."
"I don't think Spike wants to do that . . ." Buffy protested.
"Course I do, why wouldn't I?" chirped Spike brightly, smirking. He obviously rejoiced at the prospect of ruining a good of evening of hers'.
She pursed her lips. "Oh really. I thought you had 'better things to do with your time than hang with a little git like me'."
Spike shrugged. "Yeah. That was before I found out that you did those 'things' too." He chuckled and absently played with the silver letter opener, recklessly twirling about his slender fingers. "Come on Slayer, it'll be fun. We can swap on-the-job stories and techniques."
"And I suppose the next thing, we'll be toasting marsh mellows by the campfire and harmonizing 'We Are the World' to an acoustic guitar," Buffy scowled. "And don't call me that!"
"Oh come on, Buffy let him come. You want to see the Bronze, don't you Spike?"
Spike continued to twirl the knife in the air, this time dangerously close to Xander, who visibly cowered. "Don't care either way," he sighed. "Nothin' else to see in this two bit town."
"Then it's settled!" Willow could be practically radioactive with perkiness, an attribute that Buffy was not too fond of at the moment. "We'll all meet up at the Bronze around . . . 7-ish?" She squealed with excitement. "Oh this is fun, it's like an office party . . . and, and it's like we're people of different cultures together . . . y'know . . . British . . . American . . . um . . . werewolf . . ."
"Werewolf?!" Spike grabbed the spinning knife in surprise, much to the relief of Xander.
"Yeah . . . that would be me." Oz raised an affirming hand. Spike gazed at him with amazement for awhile before lapsing into acceptance.
"Huh."
"This will be fun." Willow was shaking her head furiously.
"Yeah . . . real fun," Buffy grumbled, sinking into her chair miserably.

Chapter 6: It's Time to Get Acquainted

The music of the Bronze was pulsing, filling the air with the staccato bass beats of blaring electronica to accompany the teenage, hormone-ridden atmosphere of the place. Buffy sat grumpily at a table, her eyes scanning the club for a familiar, tall, brooding character.
"Where is he?" She wondered aloud, prompting Willow to turn from Oz mid-conversation.
"Who? Spike? Don't worry, he said he'd come."
Buffy snorted. "And I'm just counting the minutes until he arrives. No dummy, I mean Angel."
"Oh. You were expecting him?"
"Kinda. He said that he might stop by."
"Who?" Xander approached with arms full of drinks and snacks for all. "Spike?" His nose wrinkled in distaste.
"No. Angel."
Xander snorted wrathfully. "In between the Unholy Creature of Darkness and Angel, I'm thinking we should really reevaluate the guys we hang out with."
"I dunno, I think we have pretty good taste." Willow smiled softly, wrapping her arms around Oz who lovingly kissed her on the cheek. As she suddenly spotted a familiar black duster floating through the crowd, Willow pried her hands away from her boyfriend and waved towards it. "Oh, there he is now! Spike!" she called.
Swerving his head, he struggled to walk past the crowd to reach them. "Hey all," he smirked, grasping a bottle of Heineken.
Buffy frowned. "Where'd you get that?"
He looked down at the mint-colored bottle. "This? From the bar."
"Yes we know this," Xander stated impatiently. "We were more questioning you're legal status as to possess and consume such contraband. Here in America, we underagers don't feast on the ale like you drunken Anglo-Saxons do."
Spike whistled. "Look at the big bad narc. Got me shakin' in my boots, Harris. Gonna administer the frying pan and egg 'This is your bloody head on crack' lecture as well? Cause I'm all ears." Slumping in a chair he took an enthusiastic swig of beer. "Asked the barkeep for a beer. Handed me one in good faith. End of story."
"He didn't card you?" Buffy arched a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Weell, a little friendly persuasion was involved," Spike conceded. He shot an impish grin. "Perhaps in the form of saying to the man, 'give me a beer or I'll pummel you till your balls fall off'."
"So strong arming the bartender. Wow, I can't wait to introduce my mom. 'Look mom, my new best bud is the local menacing bully. Lock all the liquor cabinets'." Xander shook his head disdainfully.
"You wish Harris. You'd like that wouldn't you, to tell all your sorry geek friends you're heart-to-heart with the coolest guy in school?"
"Coolest guy? Sorry, I think we're all out of those at this table," Xander replied pointedly. "Well, with the obvious exception of our beloved wolf-boy here."
"Oh Xander, you flatter me and the blushing soon commences," Oz remarked dryly.
"Where's Angel?" Buffy resumed mumbling to herself, waving her head around in vain to catch a glimpse of him lurking in the shadows somewhere.
Spike frowned. "Angel?"
"Her main squeeze," Willow clarified.
His eyes widened with understanding. "Oh . . . Angel. So you swing that way, do you?"
"What?!"
"You know . . . bumps on bumps action? Only person who's got a name like Angel is usually a big busty blonde with lots n' lots a bouncy hair."
Buffy shook her head. "Is it just me, or is anyone hopelessly lost the minute he opens his mouth?"
Spike sighed impatiently. "I'm talking you and your bloody significant lesbo. Not that I mind such that kind of thing. Hell, I don't think any hot-blooded teenage boy minds that kind of thing."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Angel's a guy, Spike."
"A guy? Well that's a poof's name if ever I've heard one."
Buffy opened her mouth to administer a cutting comeback, but Cordelia swept in at that moment, carelessly pushing Buffy aside rudely as she slouched closer to Spike.
"There you are Spike! I've been looking everywhere for you!" She looked at the rest with distaste and coldness. "I see you're still foreign to the proper rules of coolness here in Sunnydale." She pointed exaggeratedly to all seated at the table. "You see, these freaks and losers are not the crowd you want to be associating with if it's a social life you hope to maintain. Now if it's lessons in how to be total rejects with nothing better to do but hang in a libr--"
"As much as I enjoy these fun-filled tirades of yours, Cordy, they really are unnecessary. You want Spike, you can have him." Xander interrupted and glared at Spike with emotion usually reserved for his female nemesis.
"And just when I thought we are getting to be the best of friends!" Spike sighed sarcastically.
"Ok then, it's settled. How about a spin on the dance floor, Spike?" Cordelia had already grasped his hand tightly and was dragging him away from the table.
"Wait." Spike stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head ruefully. "I don't dance. No two-steppin'-Achy-Breaky-pansy-crap for me."
"Well maybe you should start because if you don't go with me, Harmony will soon get her big meat hooks into you before you know what hits you," Cordelia said, waving her head towards a fast approaching Harmony, who was stalking towards Spike with the force of a tigress. Panicked, Spike grabbed Cordelia's hand and ran towards the dance floor.
"Right then. Here we go."
Soon, the rest of the group was left staring at Spike being helplessly caught in between Cordelia and a fuming Harmony, who soon instigated a catfight between herself and Cordy. Much scratching and hair pulling ensued, with Spike left on the sidelines, amused and utterly confused.
"I put down ten on Vapid Blonde!" Xander announced eagerly to the rest of the surveyors, slapping a bill down onto the table.
"I dunno, Cordy's got a couple inches on Harmony, plus she's got those spiky Italian stiletto heels on," Willow observed, wincing as Cordelia whipped off one shoe and hurled it at Harmony's head. "Yikes. That's gotta hurt."
"No, I gotta go with the manicure factor," Oz remarked. "Look at the fake nails on Harmony!"
"Why in damnation are they fighting over Spike in first place?" Buffy wrinkled her nose at the scene. Harmony had begun to do some real damage, using the fact that Cordelia had one of her shoes off to her own advantage. Xander spilt over, laughing hysterically as Cordelia hopped around on one foot with as much dignity as she could muster. "I mean, if it was someone like Brad Pitt, I would understand going for the full-on hissy fit."
"O-or Freddy Prinze Junior!" Willow sighed dreamily over her fantasy teen media-god.
"Pfft. That personality-less wannabe thespian? I sooner fight for Spike than him."
"Fight for who?" As usual, Angel made his entrance by furtively sidling up to Buffy before she ever knew he was there. She was always a bit jolted when he did this, his cold hands settling loosely around her arms, his body pressed slightly against her back, but then again, she always felt jolted in his presence.
"Geez Angel! You are quite the lurker!" Buffy wrapped her arms around him anyway, inwardly ecstatic to see him.
"Force of habit. Us vampires aren't really acquainted with walking. We lurk instead." He paused when he saw how Buffy recoiled at the slightest mention of any connection he had to his darker nature. "What's going on here?" he said, abruptly changing the subject as he looked towards the prizefight that everyone was intently watching. "Another apocalypse?"
"Naw, just two irrational females fighting over some scumbag." Xander pronounced the words with relish. Angel looked back at the two screeching girls and blonde male, who sat lazily reclined against the stage, cigarette in hand.
"Spike I guess?" Angel nodded towards the distinctively sniggering teen, which he recognized through Buffy's descriptions.
"In the flesh. Though why those two are duking it out over that particular flesh is still a mind-puzzler."
Angel studied the young man hard. There was something familiar about him somehow . . . he couldn't quite put his finger on it . . . like he had known or met him before . . . in a dream perhaps. Yet he had never meet Spike before, ever . . . as far as he knew. Nonetheless, the sight of Spike suddenly made Angel feel very sick inside.
"Angel?" Buffy placed a worried hand on Angel's shoulder gently to stir him out of his trance. "Are you okay? Is there something wrong?"
Angel shook off his fixated stare on Spike. "Huh? Oh, no, nothing's wrong." Buffy remained unconvinced as she scrutinized Angel's dark expression. It's nothing, he thought, trying to calm himself. You're just hungry, that's all it is. He made the mental side note to visit the butcher plant on the way home.
Growing tired of the bitchfest, Spike threaded back through the crowd towards the table. A chuckle under his breath and his cigarette still flopping out his mouth, he reached for the half-empty beer bottle. "Well I must say, this is a strange town. In the part of London I lived in, there were transvestite hookers on the corner and monkey peddlers with dressed-up dwarfs banging on their pipe organs. This town is by far stranger." Reaching for another cigarette, he brushed roughly against Angel. "Sorry mate," he said without looking up. He continued chuckling as he lit the cigarette expertly, a thin cloud of smoke whispering out of his mouth. "I mean, you've got the girls with the----" He absently looked up to face Angel, who stood towering over him with an apprehensive look on his face. Spike's face immediately turned ashen, the newly enjoyed cigarette tumbling out of his gaping mouth.
"Spike, this is Angel," Buffy sighed through introductions. "Angel, Spike." She smiled, self-satisfied at Spike, tucking an arm around Angel's elbow. "See? Male. Got the Y-chromosomes and everything. My boyfriend."
Spike stood completely still and did not respond. It seemed like years of silence passed between the two males, one a boy, the other a vampire, both of their faces glazed over with an indescribable expression of familiarity. Angel cleared his throat and offered a hand stiffly. "Spike. Nice to meet you. Buffy's told me about you."
Spike clenched his teeth and surprised all by ramming his fist in Angel's jaw. Stunned, Angel stumbled back a few paces but Spike had already lunged at him and had him pinned against a column. Smashing his beer bottle against a table, Spike jutted the shard near to his face, his other hand trapping Angel's neck. Buffy grabbed his raised arm before he could do any damage.
"What the hell are you doing?!!!" Buffy screamed, throwing Spike off Angel. She had forgotten her own strength and Spike went flying into an opposite column. But already he had picked himself up and grabbed a nearby pool cue, snapping it half on his knee and advancing back onto Angel, prepared to stake him if not for Oz, Willow and Buffy all holding him back.
"You!" Spike snarled at a conflicted Angel, his whole body squirming against his restraints. "I knew I would find you one day!"
"What are you talking about Spike, you know him? You know Angel?" Buffy tried to calm her breathing, panicked at both Spike's erratic behavior and her boyfriend's near stakage. "How?"
Spike glared at Angel with even more hatred than he ever carried for his father. Veins in his neck strained against pale skin, his muscles tensed, visible through layers of black. Deliberately, slowly, he rasped out the words as his eyes glazed over with intense malevolence. "He killed my mother."

Next