Oh right, he was damned...

Spike cradled the shot glass in one hand as he glared over at the result of his damnation. She bounced and writhed all over the piddling dance floor, her hair a beacon of golden light under the strobes. He squinted at her two friends dancing with her and dismissed them in an instant as coattail hangers on. Something that he would sort as soon as he'd gotten enough liquid courage; Spike downed the JD with relish.

"Set me up with a bottle, luv." He cocked his head and pinned the fluttering bartender with his best smouldering look. He dug out a handful of cash and began to count out the right amount.

"Oh no, it's on the house." The smitten woman pushed the notes back over and tentatively patted him on the hand as she pushed over the bottle that would be his salvation that evening.

"Thanks, pet. You've no idea how much I need this." Spike took a long drink and leaned back on the bar and watched her. She was a ripe minx, one step away from being jailbait, but the sight of her bobbing breasts put paid to that thought. His mouth watered at the sight of her nipples pressing against the silky top. Despite hating her with his entire being, Spike's mouth watered at the sight of those tender morsels, his eyes narrowed at the burgeoning erection in the floppy haired boy's slacks.'Not something you want to be thinking about, kid. She'll chew you up and spit you out. You're so out of her league, Whelp, you're in the minors.'

He didn't notice the bartender recoil from her position of ogling him as his fangs dropped slightly, the predator in him unhappy that his soon to be territory was being encroached by some spotty teen that'd probably only ever seen a naked woman in magazines. Spike growled deep in his chest. He may not want to be here, but there was no way he was putting up with that sweaty nit panting over his Slayer.

"Fuckit," Spike snarled and drained the full bottle in seconds. 'His slayer? Bugger – Bollocks -- arse – soddit-- shite and fuck...not mine. Remember that, Spike. She's just the reason you're here, not yours to savour.' The sigh that groaned out of the vampire seemed to emanate from his toes and work it's way through his entire system. He wanted to sink to his knees and weep. If he'd been somewhere private where he wouldn't lose anymore street cred, he would've. Tears and self-pity had become second nature to him and he didn't even have a soul like his bastard of a Granddad.

"Sir, are you okay?" a tentative voice chimed up next to him.

Sir? Since when had he become a sir? Spike glared down at the pipsqueak tugging on his leather and flashed the brat a fang. How dare some mere mortal--something he'd have used its bones to pick his fangs with--ask if he was okay! Master vampires are to be feared, not worried over like some nance. He was tempted to snap the big-eyed blighter's neck but reminded himself if he did anything bad then he was buggered even more than now. The teen shrank back at the sight of the vampire and stuttered an apology before running out of the nightclub.

Spike mentally preened, 'Yeah, still got it.'

"Tut tut, William. You know what I told you. Anything vaguely bad and you get a shiny soul shoved down your throat."

"I hate you, y'know?" Spike closed his eyes at the detested voice of his tormentor who had popped out of the ether.

"Aww, little ol'me? How could you?" The demoness next to him turned to face Spike with an exaggerated pout on her fine features.

"Bugger off," Spike growled as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He did not want to be anywhere near the blonde chit dancing out on the floor, he wanted to be back in his Dru's arms.

"Now why would I want to do that? When you are about to become the greatest result of all the wishes I have ever granted."

"Anyanka, I swear I will rip your spine out and club you to death with it

"Ohhh, is that Aurelian master vampire foreplay?" the vengeance demon teased, her eyes never leaving the three figures on the dance floor. "She has a purity in her that I hope you will leave intact," she added with a warning note.

"You realise that you're the biggest pervert I have ever met and that's saying something seeing that Darla is an acquaintance. She is one dirty bitch; the things she did to Peaches with a strap-on and a whip would make tougher eyes than yours water," Spike remarked absently as he stared at the girl dancing in front of him.

"She's pretty," Anya commented as she took in the Slayer that was about to have her world knocked on its axis.

"If you like 'em with a pulse, I guess." Spike's thoughts were on his lost love-- the one that was the reason he was standing on the mouth of Hell ready to leap in feet first.

"What? They're all ready meals to you?" Anya nudged him none too gently.

"Ow. That bloody well hurt. Wot'd you do, sharpen your elbows or something?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. Now go on...go meet your destiny." Anya waved her hands at him.

"Yeah, right, just like that. M'gonna go up to a Slayer and say 'hello, I'm here to help you. What? Me a vampire? Why yes, how clever of you to spot that. Sorry, do I have a what? Ahhh, a soul? Nope, not got one of those.' And then poof!" Spike fluttered his fingers in the air. "That's me exploding into dust in case you're wondering, you rotten evil bint."

"So how are you approaching her? In armour with a big sign around your neck saying 'ask questions first and stake later'?"

Spike sighed again, "I'm sussing it out. Just let me do it in m'own time."

"Yeah, after she's died a grisly death on the fangs of some vampire. I am here to ensure that your sire's curse takes effect and you live by the rules. OR I will curse you with a soul." Anyanka's face shimmered into her demonic visage briefly just to remind him she wasn't just a pretty face.

"Look, about Dru, you do realise she is barking?" Spike tried to keep the begging whine out of his voice but failed miserably.

"She's a dog?" Anya's forehead crinkled in confusion. "No -- she's not, she's a vampire. Don't try and distract me." She stomped her foot and pouted up at Spike. This was truly the most delicious of her vengeance spells and it also paid off her poker debt to that smelly little demon, Whistler. So in her books, it was a killer bargain and there was no way the pouting vampire was going to wheedle his way out of it. "How would you like a nice bout of syphilis for trying to confuse me? I can do that. Make your penis ache in so many ways, have it seep pus and blood, and the pain I can create in that one area will have you wanting to chop it off, just to ease your eternal misery."

Spike's hands clapped over his groin and he stared in real terror at the small woman-- the reason for all his misery and the author of his nightmares. "No don't, pet. I'll be a nice puppy and play with the Slayer." He gazed at the instrument of his damnation and wondered why his darling sire had done this too him. Why had she wished vengeance on him? All he had ever done was adore her, coddle her and given her everything her insane whims demanded. Where had he gone wrong?

"Well, when are you going to approach her?"

"When the time is right." Spike growled, turned on his heel and stalked out of the Bronze, his duster whipping around him as he prowled out into the darkness.

Unaware of a pair of eyes watching his loping walk in appreciation.


 

"When the time is right?" Spike leant against the wall and bashed his head against it. He had no idea how to get out of this bind and deep down knew that this was it for him. "When the bloody hell is the time right for you to hand over your balls to the chit for her whimsy?"

"Ewww."

Spike leapt a foot in the air, spinning fast to see a brunette and a blonde staring at him with expressions of disgust on their pretty, albeit over made up faces. So much for the Big Bad – more like the big pansy.

"Rude much?" The busty, dark haired teen crossed her arms over her chest and stared assesingly at him, her nose wrinkled in disgust. So not that cute with the potty mouth.

"Yeah, what she said." The blonde licked her lips at the yummy looking blondie bear standing in the shadows.

"Come on, Harm. I wanna show off my new purse." Cordelia flicked her long hair over her shoulder and gestured for her fashion minion to follow her. She was also hoping to torture Buffy for not falling into step and hanging out with her. As if Willow, or that total loser, Xander, were in any way cooler than her. Harmony followed her, waving a quick goodbye to the horrified vampire. "We are so out of here!"

Spike stared numbly at the backs of the two girls and nearly sank to his knees and sobbed at the utter nightmare that was his life. One minute he'd been planning a trip to Prague for his Princess, and the next she'd kicked him out of the moving train, screaming blue murder about dancing with the light and how he was not her Spike anymore. He really hated it when she had one of her turns, they usually resulted in him suffering and this was probably the worst it had ever been.

"Well that was humiliating, one quarter of the Scourge leaping in the air like a frightened cat."

"Look, sod off, Anyanka, I've had it up to here with you," Spike growled, gesturing sharply to his throat as he glared over at the unruffled demoness. "Wot are you ? My own personal Jimmy Cricket? Just piss off and let me work this out on my own terms." He refrained from adding that his own terms were in the form of a bottle of Tequila and a stake unless he could find a way to escape her clutches.

"Well no, I have to make sure you behave, otherwise Whis...I mean, otherwise Drusilla will be disappointed." She fluffed her hair over her shoulders and prayed that the intuitive vampire was too concerned with his abject humiliation to spot her nearly spilling the beans. She was dreading Hoffy finding out about her being trapped into doing this spell, but there was no way out. A debt was a debt and she was never one to welsch. She still couldn't believe that this was happening to her. One minute her life was chugging along nicely, and now she was scrambling to cover a debt with a representative for the PTBs?

Spike snorted. "I doubt Dru even remembers the wish now...not if she was in one of her moods." He dug around in his pockets and pulled out a battered packet of Marlboros and lit one with a slightly unsteady hand.

"Oh, it's quite a good one really, shall I tell you again? Are you sober enough to remember as I really do get tired of repeating myself."

Spike grunted and puffed out a smoke ring. He didn't want to hear it again but knew if he tried to scarper the bint would teleport after him. He still was stunned that Dru felt she needed vengeance on him; after a century at her side, loving her and fighting for her, he'd never betrayed her in body or mind. Or so he'd thought until she'd had that vision and gone ballistic and tossed him out on his ear.

"She wished that you would go to the one that covered you with her light."

"And from that you get me here and wishing me to fight for the soddin Slayer of my kind?"

She stared at him with a Sphinx-like smile on her lips. "I am nothing if not ingenious in my wish granting, William."

"Light? Light? What the hell was she on? I live in the dark with her. Light? Sod it." He flung his half-smoked cigarette onto the concrete and crushed it out with a heavy boot, stamping on the dying embers over and over, mentally wishing it were the pert features of the demoness intent on destroying his unlife.

"Spike?"

Spike's leather clad shoulders slumped even more. "And now my night is complete," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh, here he is! I was waiting for him." Anya peeped around the moping figure of her victim and blinked. "His forehead is huge and he just screams 'look at me' with that mopey aura. Bet he's hoping to attract women with his broody visage, though personally I think you have much more orgasm potential." She patted Spike on the shoulder and pushed past him.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"Now, Mr Angel, you know exactly what he's doing here." Anya propped her hands on her hips and stared up, completely unphased by Angel's glum face and his looming presence. "You are really tall and glowery looking aren't you?"

"I was contacted by Whistler and told that I would be mentoring a demon who was on the track to redemption. Like me...and it's him?" Angel stared at Spike with a mixture of disgust and longing. He'd hoped for a friend, a companion at arms, not the blond idiot who had been the bane of his existence and was so far from being redeemed it was not funny. He loathed the fledgling William that Dru had dragged home, but at the same time missed his family--even Spike. He was so lonely and tired of being in the shadows alone with his torment. The only light in his existence was when he managed to see the pretty Slayer and pass on some information. When Whistler had appeared in his basement apartment and announced that he was to help another on his path to redemption, Angel had experienced a brief moment of hope, a tiny glow that he'd carried with him for the half an hour it had taken to get his hair just right and then get to the meeting point.
 

Now – now it was Spike? If it wouldn't have made him look silly, Angel would've stomped off in a snit. But he was very conscious that the Powers wanted him to be a Champion and it was better to have a cause to fight for than go back to living in alleys draining rats. But Spike? On the path to redemption? He sincerely doubted it. It had to be a trick.

"It's not a trick or a joke," Anya commented perceptively. She didn't like the look of this one at all and couldn't help but wonder if Whistler actually knew what he was doing She'd reached over and slapped Spike up the back of the head when he'd snorted at Angel's comment about redemption, chuntering under his breath about slavery and the corruption of an innocent demon who wanted nothing more than a nice drink from a neck or two a night and to be left alone.

Angel's jaw dropped. He was stuck with Spike. His shoulders slumped in resignation as it finally started to sink in. He was stuck with the worst of his family; he was really in hell now. He might be lonely and sad, but having Spike around was going to be a nightmare-- family or not.

"Right perceptive bint, this one." Spike sighed and turned to face the great nit that was his grandsire. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth and he decided that, if he was damned, he may as well torture the poof on the way there. Spike flung his arms out. "Gramps, did you miss me? Come on, give us a cuddle."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sod this. I am not ruddy well squatting in a damp piddly basement!" Spike paused in the doorway and glared around Angel's flat, a look of horror on his face.

"Ohhh, is it horrid? Let me see!" Anya poked her fingers into the small of Spike's back as she tried to get him to move. He stood solid in annoyance and she had to give up the subtle torture and jump up and down behind him, trying to peer over his shoulder. Spike glanced back over his shoulder at the sight of the petite demoness bouncing up and down like a rabbit and suppressed a smile. He was pissed off with her and not about to grin at the bint.

"Spike, just get in here," Angel growled. He was not too keen on sharing space with the menace either, but he had a soul and he had to sacrifice himself for the greater good to atone for all the things he'd done. A brief moment of clarity surfaced in his head when he looked at Spike and realised that he had been witness to some of the less savoury moments of his unlife and if Angel could've, he would have blushed.

"Nope, am going to find digs of me own. Ta ta gramps, don't wait up." Spike gently lifted Anya and put her out of his way before disappearing into the night.


 

'Two weeks, two sodding miserable weeks.'

Spike glared at the bottom of his very empty glass and sighed. It'd taken him about ten days to get himself sorted out, the rest of the time he'd sulked in the bottom of a bottle. Thankfully, the now absent demon-girl had come through for him and now he was a not so proud homeowner. 'At least there's dosh rolling in from the rent.' He snorted and reached for the bottle of tequila and filled the glass to the rim. Good thing she had too, otherwise he'd have been picking vengeance demon from his nashers and to hell with her boss.

He winced at the tentative knock on his door. "Anyanka, wherever you are, I hope you know you're a sneaky bint and have a twisted sense of humour."

He drained the tequila with relish and let the tumbler fall from his fingers onto the table with a clatter. Pushing himself away with flourish, Spike mentally braced himself and swung open the loft door. "Wotcha Peaches, how's it hangin?" Spike rocked back on his heels and smirked at the wretch looming in his doorway and wondered why he'd ever looked up to him back in the day. "Not very low, I imagine," Spike sniggered. He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and smirked at his visitor.

Angel glared at his sozzled protégé, disappointment limning every feature of his normally stoic face. He was tired of constantly having to come get Spike from his place to go patrol. He ignored the small voice inside reminding him that it was only four nights rather than the eternity it felt like since the peroxided menace had invaded his unlife, again. But part of him was still sulking over the blatant refusal of Spike to live with him, so he wasn't inclined to be fair. He'd hoped that on some level that familial links and responsibility would've led to them spending time together. He was lonely, and tired of being on the outside looking wistfully in.

Instead, Spike had disappeared that first night, had stayed gone for a week and then reappeared in his life. Announcing himself in the bold brash way that seemed to have become his signature. He still could hear the caterwauling of Johnny Rotten and his so-called band.

The first morning the sound had echoed down the stairwell he'd fallen out of bed, positive it was the end of the world. As it was he'd only just gotten to bed, having spent the night shadowing Buffy while she fought and beat a cadre of vampires. Tired and lonely, he'd stumbled to bed still clothed, and fallen into a shallow sleep. Until he'd heard the not so dulcet voice of someone screeching about masturbating in the ships rigging – not something Barry Manilow had ever sung about.

"Peaches, wot you doing here?" Spike asked with a malicious grin, knowing full well why his Grandpops was standing there looking constipated. Well, as constipated as a vampire could on a liquid diet. He still couldn't figure out why Angel didn't eat. The tastes, textures and sensual experience of all foods was something he could never do without – he was not one for self-flagellation.

Angel shuffled from foot to foot; he was still nurturing a grudge over recent events, especially his new landlord. Angel sighed again and looked Spike in the eyes and wondered why he was having to pay rent to his pain in the arse Grandchilde. "Patrol," he muttered.

"Oh right, time to go be manly men and battle things that go bump in the night." Spike rolled his eyes, mentally cursing his lot in life and also having to have an Angel-sized pain in the arse limpet. Without another word, Spike slammed the door shut in Angel's face and stomped around his apartment, muttering under his breath. All his delaying tactics had finally run dry. Tonight was the fifth night he'd participated in the slippery slope of betraying his kind. He hated it, and having to lurk around gawping at the luscious arse of the Slayer like Humbert Humbert was starting to get on his wick. He was giving Angel one more night to introduce him and if he didn't then all bets were off.

Spike snatched up his duster and stuffed a couple of stakes Anyanka had gifted him with. Right smart ones with engraved and embossed silver handles, hiding a nasty surprise for his enemies. He'd discovered the hidden buttons in the embossed work, which released a thin silver blade from the base of both. Impressive weapons for a dirty fighter, she'd said with a grin. He swung his duster over his shoulders and then rocked on his heels, this was it. After this night, there was no going back.

"Spike, come on. I overheard Giles tell Buffy to patrol down by the docks. I want to follow her and make sure she's safe," Angel called, impatience colouring his voice and making him sounds surly. His dreams and hopes of having a protégé to mentor had not included chasing Spike around and trying to get him to help him.

"You mean you're going to stalk the bint and watch broodingly from the shadows," Spike muttered under his breath.

"You do realise she is the Slayer and can look after herself," Spike teased as he yanked his door shut and leapt agilely over the banisters, landing four floors down. Nonchalantly dusting himself off, he sauntered out of his apartment block and into the night, trailed faithfully but resentfully by his Grandsire.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Do we have to lurk behind the barrels of rotting fish? Not very vamplike, is it? Lacks a bit of class," Spike groaned. He lifted his duster and stared balefully at the suspicious smelling water stains. "Remember when we were the Scourge of Europe? Those were the days...Hang about. Even then you were one for running around and hiding in mine shafts." Spike frowned and looked over at Angel, 'he'd always been a pansy even when he didn't have a sodding soul!'

"Shhh...there she is!" Angel gasped and pulled Spike down next to him.

"What the fuck," Spike snarled as his backside became intimately acquainted with a heap of fish guts. 'Oh ruddy brilliant, wonder if I can rip his head off without anyone hearing him scream.'

Spike opened his mouth to let Angel have it and then abruptly slammed his mouth shut at the cow eyed look of love in Angel's eyes. 'Oh, for the love of Mike...he looks like a sweaty palmed virgin gawping at his first love.' Spike shuddered at the calf eyes and turned to look in the direction of where Angel's eyes were riveted.

He licked his lips at the sight of the Slayer. "Dressed to thrill, isn't she?" he teased, despite knowing that Angel would knock him on his arse, but the brooding nit was an easy target and he couldn't resist.

"Shhh, that's not nice, Spike," Angel whispered, his doting eyes never leaving Buffy's face. Spike stared at Angel, his sharp blue eyes missing nothing. The look that the brunette vamp was gifting the Slayer was one of adoration and adulation. Spike raised a scarred brow and his lips curled into a half smile. 'Well now...that's interesting.' He saw the bird as an ideal, not a flesh and blood woman with needs and dreams.

That could only end in tears, Spike shook his head at Angel and resisted the urge to light up.

~~~~~~~~~

"Stupid Giles, sending me down here. Doesn't he realise, fresh nubile girl on docks at night equals disgusting old farts perving on me? And thinking I'm a hooker." Buffy kicked at the ground and pouted. "I am soooo not a skanky ho-bag." Buffy pulled her jacket around her tank top and surreptitiously tried to pull her mini skirt down as far as she could get it to go.

She froze mid-step and stared around her suspiciously, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows and the boats docked. Shrugging, Buffy carried on walking. She'd been positive that there had been a snort of laughter and then a scuffle.

"Now if I were a stinky old demon, where would I be?"

"Behind you! Oh bollocks..." a voice shouted from the shadows. Buffy whirled around and received a mouthful of demon fist. She went flying over the side of the docks and hit the water with a resounding splash.

Spike slapped a hand over his traitorous mouth and leapt after Angel, yelling, "You get the slimey git, I'll get the girl." With that, he barrelled past a stuttering Angel and leapt with a howl of glee into the briny depths.

"Wait, no...I'll get the..." Angel growled once and then sprang into action. He fought the Gishgar demon half-heartedly; he wanted to be the one leaping into the sea saving her. Not Spike.

Angel's head reeled back from a blow and he snarled angrily, spitting blood and what looked suspiciously like an incisor out onto the wooden docks. He threw himself at the pale yellow demon with a roar, letting his game face slip to the fore. He sent a sharp jab to the throat of the Gishgar and then proceeded to get the stuffing beaten out of him by the slithery aquatic demon..

Spike hit the oily water with a resounding splash. He sent a mental glare at Anyanka as he felt himself start to sink. 'Sodding wish.' He vamped out and tried to pierce the murky gloom of the filthy water, searching for a shock of blonde hair. Swimming in the direction of some bubbles, he scanned the dark depths. Keeping his mouth shut—not wanting to swallow bilge from Guatemala or anywhere else for that matter—he saw it towards the rapidly petering out bubbles. He had no idea what would happen to him if the Slayer snuffed it; his curse was tied into her and for now he was stuck with it.

Above his head, Angel fought tooth and nail, his concentration divided between the fight and the water below him. His face was cut in several places from the demon's razor sharp fins and his left eye was swelling shut. He fell to his knees when another of the Gishgar's friends appeared and slammed a packing crate over the dark haired vampire's head.

With a series of clicks and pops, the two demons communicated swiftly and then heaved Angel's slumped form off and disappeared into the night.

~~~~~~~~~

Spike squinted through the sludgy murk and then let out a mental whoop of success. He could see a thin red thread of blood spiralling up from the depths just to his right and below him. He swam downwards, his amber eyes piercing the gloom. Spike reached down and grabbed hold of the limp wrist that was floating just under him and pulled hard.

Two dark heads broke the surface of the water, neither of them drawing a breath of the air around them.

"Come on, pet. Let's get you somewhere warm." Spike grunted and then swore long and loudly when he realised she wasn't breathing. Her soft full lips were turning blue as he lugged her over his shoulder and climbed the rickety ladder before tossing her onto the abandoned dock.

"Peaches, get over here and help her," Spike shouted as he rolled Buffy's lax form onto her back. Her hair was plastered to her face and her clothes were clinging wetly to her still form.

"Oh buggery," Spike rolled her onto her side and smacked her on the back, watching as what appeared to be gallons of water poured out of her slack mouth. Pushing her onto her back again, he began to give her mouth-to-mouth. He mentally thanked himself for being a smoker and using his lungs more often than other vamps, ensuring his body had never really forgotten how to breathe. Then he noticed how sweet her lips tasted and how they gave under his firm pressure. 'She tastes like honeyed wine.'

Kneeling over her, he began to count out the gentle pumps to her heart. Watching and waiting for her to take a breath, he wasn't sure how long a mortal could survive like this. In the past he usually left them for dead, not worked on keeping one alive—especially a Slayer. Those he'd killed and left in the dust without a backward glance. But this one was different. It almost seemed like they were tied together by dumb luck and curses – but he wondered if it was something more than that.

Spike shook his head, and pushed aside the musings of a Williamesque nature. "Not now, Spike. Sod the 'what ifs' and 'wouldn't it be nice's' and focus on the drowned rat who'll decide the fate of your unlife. Breathe you sodding bint, breathe!" he chanted, pumping hard at her chest. He lunged down and began to give her mouth-to mouth again. His demon purred at the miniscule amounts of blood that were seeping into his mouth from her spilt lip.

Spike ignored the shaking in his hands, dismissing it as a reaction to the cold of the water. He pushed her hair off her face, mentally noting its softness. He covered her mouth and puffed more air in, a prickle of fear running down his spine. 'Come on, gorgeous. Breathe for Spike, stop bloody scaring the fangs out of me.'

And then she answered his mental pleas.

Buffy lurched upwards and turned her head and coughed up some more water. Great heaving coughs that cleared the water and helped her breathe again. She greedily sucked in the night air in massive gulps.

Spike rocked back on his heels and stared down at the girl he'd just saved. He, the Slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody had just saved a Slayer's life. He was damned, his rep was toast and if he wasn't careful, then he'd be a target.

But then she turned her hazel eyes up at him and he blinked, all thoughts gone as her hand reached up and caressed his mouth.

"Pretty..."she seemed to whisper in awe.

With that, Buffy passed out.


 

It was the sound of metal rasping on metal that tugged her from the blackness she was curled up fast asleep in. Buffy moaned softly and rolled onto her side, pulling the several layers of blankets over her head. "I'm sleepy, Mom. Just a few more minutes, 'kay?" she mumbled into the soft pillow. As she sank back into a deep healing sleep, Buffy frowned slightly at the sound of a faint masculine chuckle. Then her breathing deepened and the soft snores she'd been emitting earlier began to fill the room again.

Spike carefully placed the sabre he'd been sharpening on the coffee table and ghosted over to the open door and peered into his bedroom. He leant against the doorframe, arms crossed over his naked chest and limned in moonlight. His pale skin was a startling contrast to the bruises and scraps that littered his upper torso; he ran a tired hand through his tousled hair. Absently he ran a cautious finger over the bruise on his cheekbone and then sighed in unison with the small bundle of slayer snoring away on his bed.

He was cursed, he knew it.

The wish that Dru had inflicted upon him had changed him. He was saving slayers and ensouled granddads now? He sighed. It was getting worrying; he was changing into something he didn't recognise. The gradual change from 'The Big Bad' to whatever the hell he was now was beginning to snowball into a big change. A change that was starting to surprise the balls off of him. Never in his unlife had he expected to be where he was. Spike snorted at the realisation. If he were really honest with himself, then he wasn't too bothered by the changes. He'd never been one for causing apocalypses, he preferred to just muddle along, frightening the locals and getting involved in the occasional brawl was always good for the psyche. But since Anyanka had dragged him kicking and screaming to the Hellmouth, something inside him had started to shift and it tickled at his psyche. He doubted it was a moral compass - he was pretty sure Dru had drained that out of him in the stable when she turned him.

The days filled with setting himself out with his posh new digs and the nights spent being forced to stalk the pretty kitten curled up in his bed had made him stop and think. Peaches may have her on a nice shiny pedestal and determined to keep her there, but Spike had realised she was just a girl. A girl with some added extras but who was trying to balance her two lives out and still have time to be more than just a weapon for the White Hats.

It was that determination in her that had started his respect to kick in and take over from the moody bastard he'd become. The admiration that was budding in him was slowly spreading into dangerous territory, something he was trying to ignore, but she was a bloody gorgeous bird. Part of him still railed at Dru for tossing him aside and another part still yearned for his sire, but the fiery little madam snoring away in his bedroom was slowly wriggling her way into his heart and mind and Spike was surprised with himself for letting her.

The bint was a pretty little thing and a bloody impressive fighter--rough around the edges and still needing training. But when she danced he was aching to join her and shake the gates of hell with their brawls. That was something an evil demon shouldn't crave, but he was slowly beginning to realise that there was more to life than a warm neck and the scent of fear as he drained it. And it was all her fault. Or he wished he could blame it all on her.

"Back in a tick, pet. Need to go check on the other patient." He grimaced slightly, "though he's not as pretty as you, needs must and all that." Spike sighed and padded out of his apartment and headed to the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~

"That looks right nasty." Spike swung through the doorway and frowned at Angel's slumped form on the bed in the alcove. He frowned at the bloody mess of Angel's back and mentally thanked whoever looked out for evil sods like him that Angel had been nabbed and not him.

"Doesn't feel that good from this end either," Angel muttered and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable on his bed.

"Right." Spike sauntered into the kitchen and picked up the first aid kit he'd been using earlier. "Thought I told you to keep still and let the wounds heal. You've been poking and prodding at 'em, haven't you?"

Angel twisted his head, trying to track his grandchilde's movement. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. He was still in shock that the younger vampire had rescued him from the pair of demons earlier. He'd had been positive that he was dust or worse. Then Spike had appeared and saved him. There was an extremely horrified part of him that had curled up and died. He was the hero, not Spike, and yet he was the one in trouble and being saved - again.

"I'm knitting booties for the spawn you nearly birthed." Spike pulled out some more sachets of blood from the fridge and added tossed them onto the bed. "What does it look like, you big pansy? Am here to patch you up again."

"Ow, hey...Spike, what was that?" Angel craned his neck and frowned at the sight of his shredded back.

Spike said nothing and continued to clean the wounds that had re-opened with a wet flannel and then frowned down at the deepest one. His heavy black fused together in deep thought as he considered the options for healing up the ponce. He'd already discounted giving him blood. 'Not going down that effing path.'

"There's nothing doing, Peaches. Am gonna have to stitch you up." Without any preamble, Spike dug out a needle and thread and began to carefully close the wound with a fine thread.

Spike shook his head at the muffled screams emanating from Angel. "Always knew you were a pillow biter," he chuckled, ignoring the angry growls issuing from the supine vampire, and carefully tied off the thread. He shifted into game face, slashed through the thread and gently slapped on a self-adhesive plaster. "Now get some sleep and don't bloody well wriggle about anymore. Those demons did a right nasty job on your back." He stood fluidly. "Do you want me to chain you to the bed?" he threatened jokingly.

"Shut up, Spike."

"Oh and that was such a lovely thank you for saving your lumpy arse and hauling you home and patching you up. God knows what would've happened to you if I hadn't arrived when I did."

Angel shuddered at the memories and the exact reason why the demons had been flaying him. It was something he would take to the grave, and he hoped Spike would at least have the decency to not tease him about it for much longer. 'They'd wanted to use him for carrying their...' Angel shuddered and reached for one of the bags of blood that Spike had left near to hand and drained it swiftly. 'If only Spike knew how much I owed him for tonight.' A small spark of pride ignited in his chest; one of his own get had come and saved him. None had ever cared enough to do that, not since the time in Rome when Darla had rescued him from Holtz and the Inquistores.

"Maybe it won't be that bad after all," he whispered and fell into a healing sleep. His mind was filled with hope at finally having a member of his family near him without wanting to dust him or thinking he was disgusting for having a soul.

As he slept, barely a memory for Spike as the blonde made his way back to Buffy, not realising that there were more family members around than he had ever dreamed of. They did think he was disgusting for having a soul and if their plans failed then they were certainly planning to dust him.

~~~~~~~~~

It was the near silent click of a door that finally pulled Buffy from the deep sleep she was mired in. Confusion filled her the unfamiliar surroundings she'd been so comfortable in moments ago.

"What the?" She slowly pushed herself up and leaned back against the pillows she had been snoring into. She knew she had been as the back of her throat was dry and her nose was scratchy. Her eyes flitted around the dark room; the only light was coming in through the open door. Her fingers twisted nervously in the layers of blankets covering her. She pushed her hair out of her face and huffed loudly. "This is getting weirder and weirder." One minute she was on the docks, the next in the icky water and then nothing.

"So you're awake," a deep voice rumbled.

"Ahhh!" She slid under the covers with a whimper.

Spike approached the bed with a laugh. One minute she'd been all big eyes and quivery lips and now the slayer of his kind was hiding under his sheets and muttering to herself under her breath.

"You okay in there?" With a humourous inflection in his voice and unable to resist, he teasingly pulled on one of the blankets he'd layered over her sleeping form earlier.

Buffy's breath hitched at the sound of the voice again and then she freaked. From her current position she'd managed to discover that she was not wearing any clothes, only her white bra and matching panties. She began to hyperventilate. "Oh my god, he's seen me naked," she repeated over and over under her breath.

"Oh for Christ's sake, I didn't look that much. Just got you stripped down, dried off and tucked up nice and snug in m'bed," Spike retorted. "Bloody annoying little chit, you're not even naked," he added inaudibly. Spike omitted to mention that he had appreciated the honey brown skin and the softness of her belly. He avoided telling her that he had run his hands over her face and hair and memorised her features. Shifting slightly he determinedly willed his cock to calm down. Somehow he doubted that the sweet innocent in his bed would be ready to have an eye to cock view of his hard on.

Buffy reappeared from under the covers, her hair tangled and covering her face. "Ha! You're a depraved weirdo who wanders around the docks looking for, um...ewww! Oh my god! You're a perv and you kidnapped me and brought me to your icky lair and well...put me to bed and made sure I didn't get a cold—"she trailed off and flushed with mortification.

"Saved you from drowning, got you somewhere safe and warm, made sure you didn't catch a chill, gave you my own bed to sleep in and never touched a hair on your pretty little head." Spike ticked off each point with a smirk. He thought it wise to not mention licking her wounded lips and sealing the cuts. The taste was still lingering on his tongue and his fangs were itching for more.

"You saved me?" Buffy squeaked and then blinked when she finally focused on Spike. 'Whoa, he's a hottie,' her inner cheerleader squealed and Buffy blinked once and then twice. "Who are you?" She pulled the blankets further up to her chin, her eyes questioning.

He resisted the temptation to tease her with the reply of 'who ever you want me to be, babe' and sank down next to the bed. "The name's Spike."

"Your mom named you Spike?" Buffy mentally slapped herself for sounding so lame.

"No, and no I am not ruddy well telling you any more about that, so pipe down." Spike raised a finger and waved it at her. Part of Buffy was aching to get out of bed and cross examine the cute guy, but she was naked and there was no way she was gonna move.

"I'm Buffy," she blurted out, realising that he had no idea who she was.

"I know, pet. Seen you around and we have a -" Spike pulled a sour face, "a - mutual friend in common."

"Huh?" Buffy frowned at him. If she knew someone that he did there was no way she'd not have noticed the cuteness that was Spike. Then she froze as a warning tingle erupted down her spine. "What are you?" She edged backwards and fell off the bed with a squeak of humiliation. Buffy wondered if she could just keep the blankets permanently over her head. She flushed in mortification of the lameness that was her and managed to twist one around her body.

"You okay down there?" Spike lounged on the bed and stared over the side at the wriggling mass of blankets and tried not to roll about laughing at her cuteness.

"Just goddamn fine," she muttered and stood, humiliated at how dumb she was making herself look.

"Good to know." Spike tucked his hands behind his head and arched his back, deliberately making sure she had a good view of his chest. "And as for what I am...Come on, Slayer. Don't make me spell it out for you." He deliberately emphasised her title and with a twinkle in his eyes he lithely stood in front of her. He knew he was taking a gamble, she could just as easily stake him as befriend him, but he was counting on her being a little naïve and hopefully not too lethal.

"You know Angel?" was all she said, nothing about being a vampire, which surprised him.

"Yeah, he's family." Spike couldn't help himself. "I saved him from being impregnated with the eggs of the Gishnar demons you got cold cocked by and patched him up."

"Ewww, whaaa? That's gross. Hey, are you cursed too?" Buffy stared guilelessly up at him. "Is Angel okay?" she added breathlessly, guilt nudging at her that she hadn't immediately asked after him.

"Fine. He'll heal up just fine. Don't you worry your pretty head about Peaches. As for the gross, what they do is slice and dice their victims and lay their eggs just under the skin until they are...er... ready to hatch." He trailed off at the green look on her face. "Are you sure you're the Slayer?" he teased.

"What? Yeah why?" She frowned at him and then down at the blanket, knowing she wasn't really presenting herself at her Slayerly best, but he didn't have to make fun of her.

"Not too good with the more colourful stuff about your job, are you?" he grinned, his face transforming boyishly and Buffy's breath caught in her throat.

'Holy crap! He is so cute...damnit, Buffy. Remember Angel, he's the one you want...' But she wasn't so sure when faced with the muscled chest of Spike - the nice smiley hexed vampire. Angel was still all mysterious guy and 'ohhhh, there's a big thing going down and you have to go slay it' before then mysteriously swirling off into the shadows, never really stepping in to get his hands dirty. He confused her and now here was one of his hot relatives, bare-chested and smiling at her, having saved her and Angel. He was all approachable and real, not enigmatic and broody. There was something really vital and genuine about him; the energy pouring off Spike was amazing. The humour and twinkle in his really blue eyes was pulling at her, and the smile on his lips was making her all goose-bumpy and wanting to giggle like Harmony.

'Oh bloody hell.' Spike sniffed the air and then inhaled deeply. His nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening with arousal, his body reacted to Buffy's delicate scent of excitement with a powerful interest. 'M'not here to shag the chit, jus' here because of that sodding wish. Spike ol'man, don't you sodding dare fall for her...Oh bollocks'

He reached over and pulled her to him, his mouth swooping down and capturing her startled mouth with his and kissed her.

For a brief breathless moment she froze, then under his insistent mouth hers relaxed and Buffy let his questing tongue dip into her mouth with a breathy moan. One hand clutching the blanket tightly, she leant into his body and let her free hand slide up his back and her fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. Part of her was kicking herself for kissing him, betraying Angel and the bigger part of her was swooning over his kiss.

It was the best thing that had ever happened to her mouth in her life.

He was soft and tender to start and then nipping at her lips with his teeth and fiercely sucking her lower lip. A demanding, expert and harsh way that was sending tingles down her spine and making her crotch clench. Buffy sighed against his lips, taking a much needed gasping breath when he pulled back for one brief moment. She barely had time to refill her lungs before he was swooping down and capturing them again with his, his tongue lapping at the corners and then slipping past them to curl with hers. Buffy could feel her toes curling and her nipples hardening in excitement. She never wanted him to stop; she wanted him to kiss her like that forever.

Spike groaned and wrapped his hands around her waist. He picked her up and held her against his body, his cock aching for release as his hips rocked against her. He was surprised that she hadn't wriggled away at the feel of it. He let one of his hands clutch at her soft backside as the other caught the back of her head.

Both of them were so lost in the kiss that neither of them noticed their silent observers.

"I told you that he liked her," Anya hissed and smacked Whistler on the back of the head. Now that she had been able to step back from the situation and realised that she'd been set up with a losing hand, she had returned every now and then to watch over Spike. He was a fellow demon and she felt bad for getting him involved with the Slayer. But from the look of things he was adapting quite well and enjoying some of the on the job perks. She had to stop herself from doing a Pylean Dance of Victory the moment she'd clapped eyes on Angel, she had disliked the big lummox. This was just perfect in her book; the two blonds were made for each other.

"I know. Jeez, give a demon a break, will you?" Whistler winced and ducked away from her, his eyes riveted on the scene being played out in front of them. Somehow he'd never seen this coming and he doubted the Powers had either, but there was something right about the scene in front of him. He felt badly for Angel. He'd been the one to recruit him and dangle the pretty slayer-shaped carrot in front of his eyes-- and now this.

"Now what's going to happen?" Anya demanded. Something surged inside of her - something very unfamiliar. It was protectiveness for a male. She frowned. Usually she liked to curse males and watch them suffer. But something about Spike appealed to her and if the Powers had something nasty planned then they would have her and all of Arashmahar to deal with.

"How would I know? All I was told to do was get him on side and playing nice with the White Hats. I didn't expect this." He pointed at Spike lapping at the hollow of Buffy's throat. Whistler was stunned that a Slayer was letting a vampire near her throat like that and wondered if it was all fated to happen.

"Me either, but it makes things kind of interesting." Anya grinned wickedly and vanished in a puff of smoke.

"It does. Just hope she doesn't freak and stake him," Whistler added and then disappeared, leaving the oblivious blonds to their kiss.


 

A sodding week and nothing.

He thought the kiss had been a good one - but two minutes after it had ended she'd bolted out of the flat without a by your leave. Spike growled and punched the claw handed vampire in the face and then kicked him in the balls for good measure. He was getting bored with the fight. 'Where was the bloody Slayer? She should be doing her job, not me.'

"Spike, what are you doing?"

The blond vampire rolled his eyes and then punched his hand through the chest of his opponent, ripping its shrivelled little heart out and throwing it over his shoulder. He watched in satisfaction as its owner turned into a nice pile of dust with one final howl. He glanced over his shoulder and grunted at Angel in greeting. "What the ruddy hell does it look like, Peaches? I'm staking a naughty vampire who was after the Slayer, not stalking around with my hand in my pockets fiddling with my meat and two veg."

"But that's the vampire I warned Buffy about. Why did you kill it?"

"Are you daft or something? Warned her? Why didn't you just dust him and that would be the end of it? You great pillock." Spike scrabbled through his pockets and lit a much-needed fag. He glared at Angel, steam practically pouring out of his ears. "You do realise she's not in this fight alone anymore?"

Angel glanced up the darkened street, uncomfortable about being called on his actions. He frowned for a second, positive he had seen something move in the shadows under a tree. Before he could answer, Spike growled. He didn't want to admit to Spike that he was still not fighting fit, something he and Whistler had worked on before he moved here. But now, he felt about as useful as Xander in a math lesson. .

"For god's sake, enough with the lurking in alleyways and start helping the chit, that's what you were tapped to do." He omitted adding that he was as well, even though it was more than obvious. Spike puffed furiously on his cigarette and stalked off down the street with Angel tagging on after him.

"Wait for me!" he panted.

"As if I could shake you from my side," Spike muttered.

So caught up in their usual bickering, neither of them noticed their two silent observers.

~~~~~~~

"Buffy, you need to put more of a spin on that roundhouse kick," Giles grunted as she kicked the padded cushion he was holding. "Much better, try a spin and a dip with the next kick." Buffy nodded and narrowed her eyes in concentration; she bounced on the balls of her feet and then spun and kicked out, only to have her ankle caught in a firm cool grip.

"Hullo there, cutie."

She shivered at the sound of his voice, the same voice that had been haunting her dreams ever since she'd run away that night.

"I say, unhand her," Giles spluttered. He frowned at the interloper who was distracting his ward. It had taken several months to get her in line and training with him without argument, but even now any small distraction was a worry. Initially he had despaired that Buffy would have ever taken advice from him, let alone train. Not after their disastrous first meeting and her initial reluctance to follow her calling. And now this. Giles's eyes narrowed at the sight of the black clad man holding his charge's ankle.

"Chill, Giles. This is the guy who saved me last week." Buffy was surprised as to how strong her voice sounded. She frowned at her trapped ankle, acutely aware she was standing on one leg. "If I can have my leg back?" She shivered slightly as his cool fingers gently caressed her anklebone.

His lips curled into a teasing smile. "Make me." Both the blonds ignored Giles muttering under his breath about hormones and the almost inevitable squeak of cloth on glass.

Buffy arched an eyebrow at him and reluctantly wrenched her leg free from his loose grasp. "So...uh ...what are you doing here?" She resisted the urge to rub her skin where his fingers had caressed her, the remaining tingle making her feel all flushed.

Spike tucked his duster around him and collapsed into a library chair. "Well, I'd heard quite a bit about this place and thought I better do the right thing and come and be all friendly like with your Watcher."

"And why would I be friendly with you? As far as I am concerned you are a vampire." Giles replaced his glasses and frowned at Spike. "I may wear glasses, but I can assure you I am not blind."

"Giles," Buffy admonished. "I told you he saved me."

"Yes and why was that exactly? Buffy has not made that very clear to me or the others." Giles sat down opposite the silent vampire and waited for a reply. Spike slouched in his seat and hooked his thumbs in the buckle of his belt and sighed. This was it, from now on there was no turning back. Dru's wish was about to kick into full effect and surprisingly there was little hesitation on his behalf.

"Simple, I was cursed. My ex made a wish to a vengeance demon, asking for me to follow the light and here I am."

"Ex?"

"Cursed to follow the light? That's a bit ambiguous."

Spike smiled at Buffy. He took in the flash of anger and jealousy at his mention of Dru, turning it over in his mind until he decided that he thought it was pretty cute.

"The ex has a bit of a seer in her, think she saw something about me in the future and that's why she threw a wobbler and had me cursed...and that led to me being here. She's a tad bit off with her timing and whatnot, but as far as I can see, the Slayer here is the light and I am supposed to follow her."

It'd taken several bottles of whiskey and a lot of self-reflection—something he wasn't prone to in the past—but eventually he realised that Dru had seen something in his future and flipped out. Calling for vengeance on events that hadn't yet occurred catapulted him here, moving everything along a lot faster than originally fated. Now that he'd had a taste of her lips, Spike was determined to move things along at his own pace for a while. That was why he'd come to the library and bearded the Slayer and her Watcher in her den.

"Ex?"

Spike looked over at Buffy with a smirk. "Yeah. Ex." Never in his unlife had he expected to be so dismissive of Dru. As far as he'd been concerned, the moment her fangs sank through his flesh, he was hers for all eternity. Well, she'd decided not and it had stung. So now he was forced to make a new life and new fate for himself. If it meant fighting with the Slayer then so be it, he'd never realised how much more fun it was fighting demons. They offered much more of a challenge than mortals, usually more often than not screamers that gave in.

"I have to say, I know only a little about vengeance demons, but I do know that once cursed the individual has to fulfil the wish. So, what? Now you go from killing us to saving us? Just like that?" Giles asked calmly. Buffy stared at Spike, her mouth set in a firm line, waiting to hear what he'd say.

"When Spike starts something, he doesn't stop. If he says that he's here to fight, then he will. I can vouch for him."

"Angel." Buffy flushed bright red as guilt filled her. Ever since that kiss, she had not known what to do about Angel. There was some sparkage there still, but Spike had turned everything around and she was so confused. She didn't realise that Spike was watching every nuance of her face and body and storing her reactions to his Grandpops for later pondering. The over-observant vampire suppressed a smile – she was not sure about the brooder anymore.

"Hi, Buffy." The souled vamp smiled briefly at her and then focussed on Spike. "What's going on?"

"I came here to be nice and friendly-like, let the Watcher know that I was around and helpin' out." Spike raised an eyebrow at Angel, wondering what on earth the great brooder was going to say and do. He was one for non-confrontation and lurking, not direct action. So his support had shocked the socks off him.

Before anyone could say anything else, the library doors swung open and Willow and Xander clattered in chattering to each other excitedly. No one noticed the grimace on Angel's face and his disappearance into the stacks.

"Kinda heavy with the tension there, G-man." Xander ambled over to the table, ignoring Giles' spluttered rebuke and nodded amiably at Spike. "Hey, new guy." He reached over and offered his hand to the bemused vampire. "Whoa, cold hands. Hey no worries man, you know what they say. Cold hands, warm – oh my god, you're a vampire!"

"Bright spark, that one." Spike smirked over at Buffy and ignored the squawking issuing from Xander.

Willow flushed bright red and nudged Buffy none too subtly and whispered something in the Slayer's ear. Buffy's ears turned red as she nodded and then gave Willow an evil look and shushed her.

'Best kiss of her life, was it?' Spike trained his face into a neutral expression and pretended to watch Giles calm Xander down. He scanned around the library wondering where Peaches had vanished to.

"Make him swear on a stack of bibles that he won't bite me," Xander demanded. Despite the comment there was a surprising gleam of humour in his eyes.

"You utter nit." Spike shook his head and tried not to smile at Xander's antics.

"Xander, do grow up!" Giles admonished and glanced around him in surprise. "I say, where did he go?" Spike shrugged. He could still sense his pain in the arse grandsire lurking in the stacks, but decided to keep quiet. If he didn't want to be here, soaking up the Slayer's sweet scent, then who was he to let the cat out of the bag?

"Sure G-man, tell a high schooler to act mature, that's gonna work." Xander pushed his heavy fringe off his forehead and gave Giles an amiable grin.

Spike snorted and then glanced surreptitiously over at the two girls whispering together. His thick lashes masked his azure eyes as he soaked in her beauty, unaware of her Watcher cataloguing his every move and sigh.

"Who?" Xander sat down opposite Spike and very obviously fiddled with a large crucifix that lay on the research table.

"Angel." Giles looked around, slightly discomforted by the behaviour of the dark haired vampire. He focussed on this, rather than the sneaked glances of what he was hoping was not attraction being exchanged by his ward and the newcomer.

"Need to look into putting a bell on him." Both Xander and Spike spoke at the same time, then they looked at each other and exchanged what could only be a grin. They had found common ground, something beyond vampires and mortals. Angel dislike. Spike leant back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head and smirked at Xander. The teenager responded with a lopsided grin.

Spike had scented the instant dislike and jealousy on the boy as soon as Angel had appeared. Something that he wasn't above himself and it had him quite chuffed that he had found a potential ally in the battle against the annoying Angel shaped pain in his arse. The observant vampire realised that this boy could either be a stumbling block or an ally. He decided that it would make his life easier of it were the latter.

"Looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship, mate." He arched a heavy brow at Xander and waited for a beat before turning to Giles. "He's gone, can't sense him." Angel had slunk off while Giles had told off Xander. Spike guessed that crowds still discomforted his elder and was not too concerned about helping him out. Not if it meant he wasn't around the Slayer. She was his. Slayer might not know it yet. But soon, she'd be all too aware of him and what they could have. Dru didn't want him, that much was slowly becoming clear and the chit flirting with him through her lashes seemed to if her kiss and whispered admissions to her girlie were anything to go by.

"Oi, don't poke me with that," Spike growled. Surprised that the whelp had caught him unaware and managed to prod him with the tip of the crucifix he'd been fiddling with.

"Friendship? You and me? Vamp and moist edible human? Making with the friendlies – as if!" Xander rolled his eyes and chuckled. Part of him was aching to make nice with the vamp who had the mutual hatred for Angel, but a bigger part of him could still see Jesse dusting on the end of his stake. The same stake he had hidden away under his bed with his Spiderman comics.

"Why not? We can taunt the Poof with pop culture references. It's not like he'd get any of them!" Spike rocked back on his chair and pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth. The boy was nearly hooked but there was something blocking him. He could almost taste the wanting to be buddies and realised that it was going to involve a bit of work.

"Spike, be careful, you might fall on your ass," Buffy interrupted the testosterone display between the two of them. She brushed past Willow and pushed the chair he was rocking on with a bang. "And don't be mean to Angel," she added absently and then whirled round and pinned Xander with a glare when he laughed. "You too, Xander." Spike's eyes darkened at the lingering touch of her slender fingers on the nape of his neck.

'Oh, curls of Spike.' Buffy gulped and snatched her hand away before she began to pet him like a big cat. Her slayer hearing, unlike the others, had not missed the near silent purrs that erupted from his chest from her unconscious touch.

"Umm, Buffy, so Bronzing tonight before patrol?" Willow managed to control her nerves long enough to diffuse the hormone filled flirtage that was filling the library.

"Oh yeah, Mom bought me the cutest outfit on Saturday. I am sooo wanting to show that one off. I bet Cordy will be all with the envy." Buffy began to babble excitedly about strappy sandals and hair products, unaware of the by play between Spike and Xander. Neither girl was listening to Giles muttering about the sacred duty of a Slayer not entailing dressing up like trollops and wriggling around on the dance floor to rubbish music.

"Sheesh, women," Xander whispered to Spike, unconsciously taking the first step into a friendship that would change his outlook on life, the universe and everything.