Three boys, not men for a very long while yet, sat in a basement. It smelled of cheetos and mildew, and the décor was little more, or less rather, than Lego and Star Wars replicas with blow up furniture scattered about. “So… Mi Amigos, we’re taking over Sunnydale!” Andrew squealed in excitement.

“I guess so.” Jonathan nodded, staring off into the depths of plastic furniture. “There’s something in our way though. Warren said as he stood up for dramatic effect, and whipped off a white cloth that had been draped over a whiteboard. ‘SLAYER’ was scrawled onto in multiple colors. It looked like he took a handful of markers and wrote the word in one go.

“Buffy?” Jonathan chirped.

“No, blockhead, her puppy.”
Andrew and Jonathan simultaneously looked at one another with worry. No way were they going to take out a puppy. “Of course it’s Buffy.” Warren spat. Jonathan stood up abruptly, but didn’t get to say anything as a woman’s cheery voice rang down. “Warren! It’s time for your friends to go, we’ve got to get you to your study group!” Warred breathed a sigh of relief and began to hurry the two towards the door. “You heard the woman! Out! I gotta go!”

As they approached to door, Warren grabbed Andrew’s shoulder. “Hey, you forgot your thing upstairs.” He muttered.
“I’ve got everything muchacho.” Andrew smiled good-heartedly.
“No, you don’t. It’s your uh, Enterprise replica. Go on.” Warren was fighting to keep the smile plastered on his face. Jonathan wasn’t oblivious, but what would he do anyways? It’s not like this was a new thing. Warren just didn’t accept him. Too short, too many allergies, too everything.

“Oh!” Andrew yelped. “For my birthday last month! I knew you wouldn’t forget!” He opened his arms wide for a hug but was narrowly dodged by Warren slamming the door.

“Bye guys.” Jonathan said through his teeth to the closed door. What he needed was an edge.

“Warren! I can’t find it.” He called from upstairs. “It’s not there! No get down here.” Warren bellowed. The stairs groaned as Andrew’s heavy and sullen steps bore down on them. He met Warren at the bottom, who had a crooked smile across his face.

“Check this out.” He held up a little black remote, just like a television remote, and pressed number 2. His mother’s voice once more rang down, telling his friends to leave. Number 3 told him ‘Yes, of course you may, dear.’

“That was a fake? We have to show Jonathan!” Andrew skipped toward the door, but Warren spun him backward. “No. Johnny’s not a part of the plan. He’ll squeal, he’s not cut out for us. Yeah… It’s just me and you for this one.” Warren muttered, eyes shifty.

Air conditioning crackled to life, startling them and in turn shaking off a moment of over-zealous dramatics and tension. “Ok then.’ Warren breathed. “Right, so what’s the master plan?”

Warren started pacing around the room, hands clasped in front of him. “Ok, we’ve got to learn her weaknesses- the entire group’s weaknesses. We’ll plant cameras everywhere they go.”

“In the bedroom?”

“Everywhere.”

“Cool…”


End Prologue.
Chapter 1.


Andrew and Warren huddled close to a cluster of television screens, each hooked up to surveillance cameras scattered around the Summer’s residence and around the yard. “Good morning Summers’.” Andrew whispered. They were in a black van down the street, and in 35 degree California weather… yikes. But they were prepared. The van was stocked with a cooler, filled with ice and sodas, with cheesies scattered wherever they would fit in the van.


Dawn sat in the kitchen shoveling cereal into the black hole that was her mouth until there was but a puddle of milk in the bowl. She craned her neck over her shoulder where her mouth moved soundlessly.


“Andrew! Where’s the sound?” Warren kicked his partner’s spinny-chair, effectively moving his own spinny chair in the opposite direction. It was a messy ballet of chaotic nerds in spinny chairs, searching desperately for an audio cable. “Got it!”


“No!” Buffy called.

“Come on!” Dawn pined.

“It’s my day off, you are NOT ruining it. I might wear it today, you’re not getting it.”

“Fine! I’m going to school then, looking like a loser. I hope you’re happy!” She smiled on her way out the door.

Buffy lay in a heap of pillows with a rumpled blanket, which may or may not have been upside down, or sideways, no one could tell. None the less, it was doing what she wanted it to do, which was cover her eyes from any sign that it might be daylight, and pretend it was still a sensible time to be asleep.


She stirred an hour later to a presence in her room. She had to wipe an ocean of drool off her chin before looking at her intruder.

Spike stood just inside the doorway, chuckling. Her eyes narrowed, and quick as nothing else, threw a pillow at the intruder. It ripped with the force of the impact, so Spike stood still, dumbstruck, in a flurry of feathers. His lips curled into a sly smirk, and soon broke into a grin as he pounced on the slayer.

She squealed and laughed, as she hadn’t for long. She slapped Spike’s shoulders as he buried his face in the nape of her neck, lightly grazing his teeth over her skin. Everything fell together, it was like perfection personified as their energy danced together, harmoniously.

He lifted her from under him to in front of him. She was still catching her breath and laughing airily with her face lolled on his shoulder. “What do you want Spike?” She looked up at him, trying to keep a smile from her lips and failing.

“Just a quickie.” He smiled. “No, no. At least not originally. Anyways, I found you mystery demon, and since you had the day off, I thought I’d tell you now. Funny story actually. You see,”

“It’s day Spike. You couldn’t wait?”

Spike continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I was sittin in the bar, and next to me there’s this ugly greasy fellow. He says ‘Man! There’s nothing better than kippered nuns.’ And then I knew it was him. He even had that twisty chin thing and the tattoo you were talking about. I get bored, by the way. Just to answer your question.” He smiled.

His smile made her smile and place a hand atop his, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. The smiles didn’t falter, nor did her thumb cease its soothing circles, but her eyes lost their glossy affection.

“This isn’t right. Definitely a wrong thing.” The same look infected Spike’s demeanor now. The air felt thicker, as if someone dumped molasses into the air.
“I dunno slayer, but um,” He chuckled. “I kinda like it.”

The slayer’s smile faltered slightly, for a second, but slowly it started pulling back. “I should be kicking you. I should have started the moment you barged into my room. But I didn’t want to. I should go. No wait you should go. We should go. Different ways though, like different countries.” Buffy rambled, but she stopped with his cool fingers touched her lips. She couldn’t help but give in, her head lolled to the side, which put his palm on her cheek. She could smell him when his wrist was that close, and her immediate reaction was ‘mmm Spike’, but she forced ‘ew’ into her thoughts as she focused on the smell of nicotine, salt, cheap liquor; instead of the smell of Spike, fresh, like a lake on a cloudy day. His smell. ‘Mmmm, Spike’ She thought.

‘Damn.’


“I’ll go, you sit tight and… I’ll track down the baddie that did this… and I’ll steal him the best scotch on the shelf because this is bloody brilliant. Maybe I’ll hug him.” He planted a chaste kiss of the slayer’s lips and sprung off the bed and out the door before she could slap him again.

Anger boiled inside her, rising and burning her core. But like a wave rushing up the shore, it rinsed the rage and replaced it with infatuation. Something was wrong.

“Who woulda thought the slayer was into Spike.” Andrew said. He and Warren sat, captivated and confused at the edge of their spinny-seats.

Buffy paced anxiously in the kitchen, accompanied by butterflies seemingly flitting softly beneath her skin. There was a boarder between wigging out and enjoying the sensation and it was so fine, it was hard to make a distinction. And so she paced.

He did something. Someone did something. Maybe she was being punished? Boys and girls beware! Have amazing and self destructive sex a few times and you might find yourself thrown into the deep end of love, not knowing how to swim. … Run for you lives!

Ok, so it could be worse. But still!

Last Night, at the Trio Headquarters…

Jonathan stepped outside the doorway just as it slammed in front of him. He lingered for a moment of self-pity; he knew Warren didn’t need to go anywhere. He knew when heard the speaker crackle to life. Rejected from the trio, I guess it’s just duo now. He sighed when he heard Warren’s mother’s voice through the door. Muffled, but it was it. Apparently, Warren was showing his best friend the other voices on the machine. Anger seemed to skulk beneath his flesh and he pressed an ear to the door.

Later that night….

Not a team player? They’ll see.

Present time

Throughout the morning, Buffy’s emotions battled it out for dominant ground. When lust started to beat back shame, anger boiled in, burning lust to ash. Then love came like the tide and quenched the dry path that rage had left, evening the playing field. Inside, she warred for control of herself.

She needed to speak to Giles. But of course! He’s in England. Willow? No. Xander? Bigger no. Is there no one else? Yes. … No! Anya! Maybe, but she could tell Xander, and that was a fight she was eager to avoid. And so, she paced; this time, to the living room where she tread half circles around the phone.

Again, her own thoughts betrayed her as that pesky thought squirmed into her mind again. Is it such a bad thing? As much as Buffy dreaded the implications and possible results of such a thing, she hadn’t felt this shiny since before her mother died. Spike was like bleach, washing away dark and twisty Buffy and bringing out glossy and gleaming Buffy. Of course, bleach was poisonous.

It was like she had little Buffy’s on either shoulder, whispering opposite messages. She had to call Giles. She pulled herself from her pacing scheme to wander closer to the phone. It had a little yellow scrap of paper with Giles’ new home number scrawled on it.

Buffy froze with the phone in hand as the front door swung open. She really ought to lock it more…

“Buffy?” Xander called, taking off his boots. He was holding a plastic bag with various corners and bulges decorating the sides. “Hey.” She smiled.
“I thought you were gonna stop by later? I have muffins!” He said, lifting a plain white box from the bag. It had permanent marker on the top: Xuffy, muffins. Touch not! It made Buffy giggle and take her hand away from the phone.

“Calling Giles? What’s up?” He took a step forward and put his hand on the back of her elbow, urging her to make eye contact. “Nothing, I just miss him, you know?”
Xander nodded, understanding their shared feeling. But he grinned again, and lifted the top off the box of muffins. He revealed not quite muffins, but massive cupcakes. Chocolate, with vanilla icing slathered generously, and on each cake were designs drawn on with colored icing. Vampires sneered on a few, Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles had goofy profiles and some were just masses of color.

“I really, really love you right now.” Buffy beamed. It didn’t falter when Spike apparated into her mind with the mention of love, but she made a mental not to get really mad about it later.

“Movies?” She asked. “Check! And the line up is…” Xander stuffed his hand down the depths of the back, rummaging until he found the VHS’s of choice. “especially for our amusement, Dawn of the Dead, But I’m a Cheerleader! And lastly, the many pick… Tomb Raider.” Buffy grinned again. Everything was perfect. Except the spell, she added.

“I think you’re forgetting something.” Buffy said expectantly. Xander feigned confusion as he rooted through his bag. “Lounging clothes?” He pulled out bright green sweat pants and ratty orange hoody. “Don’t make me say it.” She warned.
“Say what?” Xander taunted.
“Beer.” She mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Beer!” She squealed, grabbing the back from Xander’s grip and scurried to the couch to plunge her hands in search. “Ah ha!” She grinned, hugging a case close. “Of course I brought the beer! It’s not a manly movie day without beer.” He smiled affectionately. Buffy put the drinks on the table and bore into the rest of the bag’s contents.

A coconut and a roll of strang sat like a perfect pair in the bag. Xander bit his lip sheepishly, but as with the rest of their meeting so far, he couldn’t keep a smile off his face. “It’s incase you go prehistoric again. We need to be prepared!”



“Andrew!” Warren slapped his friend on the back, stirring him to wake with a flurry of soft snorts. “They’ve got movies!” Happiness radiated off both nerds.

“FINALLY! This torturous surveillance hath ended!” Andrew cried out. “Do we have popcorn?” He pined.

“Do we have a microwave? Think, moron.”
Andrew started to be offended, but the screen caught his attention promptly. “There’s a coconut bikini! Warren! Coco-freaking-nut bikini.”
“Breathe Andrew. I’m a genius.”



By the third movie, Tomb Raider, Buffy say lazily, physically in the couch, sandwiched between the cushions and wearing Xander’s fluorescent lounging clothes. A beer in one hand, a Willow cupcake in the other, Xander wore the coconut string bikini top and his shabby jeans.
“Are we done yet?” Xander asked, pointing to the coconuts endowing his chest. “Because as much as I love the annihilation of my manhood, I miss my holey manly shirt.”
“You get it back after Angelina Jolie rescues the thing.” After 3 beers, Buffy was as a stage of over-zealous hand-gestures and giggles. After 3 beers, zombies and pretty actresses entranced Xander.

“But that could be forever away!” He cried. “And I’m cold! My manhood couldn’t be in a worse condition.” He locked eyes with Buffy, whose eyes glowed with inspiration. Within a second of understanding, Xander rushed up the stairs, crashing into the post and the wall on the way.

Buffy debated going after him… But Angelina is about to find the second piece of the Triangle! And alas, Buffy was engrossed in the movie.

“Gyuh!” Buffy cried out, as leather enveloped her head, blocking her view of the TV. “Hey! What are you doing??” She hissed, batting at the coat. Finally, Spike hopped off the top of the couch he was perched on and started to snicker. “What are you laughing at?” The slayer huffed. Spike wore a loving smile, and evidently it was contagious. He held a hand outstretched to Buffy, and to his surprise, she took it. He lifted her off the couch, and although she was reluctant and he had to lift her entire weight on her hand, it was graceful like a dance they both knew the steps to.

“Hello Sunshine…” He whispered, pulling her into a kiss. For brief moments, Buffy succumbed to the kiss, even reciprocated until she remembered Xander’s presence in her home. She shoved him away without warning, leaving light pink lipstick around his lips. “What do you want?”

“Well I came to tell you that I went after the demon bloke, and it turns out that he’s a fan of scrapping in the bright and deathly sun.” He said with false cheer.

Remembering Xander had sobered her quickly, and suspicion laced her expression. “And what happened after he went into the bright and deathly sun?”

CRACK!

The kitchen door was broken open by the head of a greasy, very hairy and feral beast in need of a comb and hair drier.

“Well it looks like he followed me.” Spike piped.

The Slovarian beast snapped its head to and fro in search of its prey. “Crap.” Buffy scurried to her weapons chest, like instinct she reached in, without looking, and pulled out a great axe.

Xander ran down the stairs at the sound of the door breaking open, barely getting his shirt over his head after finding it behind the toilet. “What is it??” He called as Buffy ran past him with her favorite axe in both hands.

“Slovarian beast." He said, dismissing Xander. "You need some help slayer??”

“I! Just! Had!" Buffy was beating the furry slime ball out the door that it broke with the front of the axe accenting her words. With one final force, she sent it stumbling backward out the door, into the sunshine. “That door replaced!” She cried as she let loose on it.

It seized both her arms and bit her, tearing into her shoulder. It’s teeth and jaws gnashed and snapped wildly fighting against Buffy in a show of brute force, a question of who could push harder. It’s hair whipped her face and got in her mouth. It was bitter and salty, and apparently the grease had partially solidified, like jello. Ew.

She swung her elbow into it’s jaw and felt it crack sideways with the momentum. It shrieked and dove at her hips. It pinned her legs with it’s weight and grated it’s nails on her thighs while keeping it’s head tucked all the way against its chest so it looked like a furry mass with limbs.

She clasped her hands and hammered them down between the shoulder blades of the beast. It collapsed, momentarily stunned, between her knees

Xander rushed out of the house with a sword in hand. “Buffy! Are you ok?! Here, here.” He tried to cover her exposed panties and help her up, but she batted his hands away. “It’s not dead Xander! Kill it!”

He plunged the sword through its torso, right where the heart would be. He then yanked it out violently, almost more violent than when he put it in, and rolled it off his friend.

She accepted his hand up, but she brought the axe down on the beast’s head, effectively beheading it. It made Xander and Spike smile, as sort of ‘That’s our girl’ smile that only close friends and family have.

“Jeez Buff, I know it... Wow, HE was a bad thing, but did you have to cut off his head?” Xander teased. “No! Well yes actually, it’s heart is in it’s skull with the brain- if it has one- and that’s the way to kill it.” “Oh.”

Xander helped Buffy back inside, where Spike was standing in the doorway buzzing to join his slayer. “Get out of the way fang-face.” Xander barked. It hurt Buffy to hear him speak like that. Spike looked at her, almost begging her to speak up, but the guilt that flashed across her face told him it wasn’t going to happen.

“I don't know where the buggering medical supplies are. Are you going to carry her upstairs? Let me take her to the other room and YOU,” He poked Xander’s chest. “Get the crap.” Spike sneered.

Xander stood a little taller, poised for an argument, and forgot about the subject girl for a moment. She stumbled with the damage to her legs and both men caught her on either side. In another situation it might be seen as lovely. Both men shirtless of course, feeding her peeled grapes and fanning her…

Reality, she lost a lot of blood.

Xander skulked hurriedly up the stairs while Spike helped Buffy to the living room. He eased her down in the middle of the floor and checked the injuries he could immediately see. He shoulder wasn’t terrible, a few good swipes with the teeth. However, the sweat pants were soaked on either side with her blood.

Gingerly, Spike began to pull the pants down, off of the wounds. He was mortified to see chasms where her flesh used to be untouched. He ghosted his hands over the cuts, willing them to disappear.

Buffy held his hand and smiled. “It’s ok. Super slayer healing powers right? It’ll be better in no time, and it’s not that bad now.” In fact it wasn’t as bad as Spike perceived, but it was still worth attention. “Yeah, I never said it was that bad.” He scoffed. “But you thought it.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

Xander jogged down the stares to see the two holding hands. Astonished, he rushed to her side and started to panic. “Oh god, how much blood did you lose?!”
She glanced nervously at Spike. “I’m thinking a lot.” And she let go of his hand.
She tried to ignore him while he glared at her, but it was like needles were poking her face, his stare was so intense.