[A/N: Yeah, the idea’s weird, with Spike so not a vampire and with the rather odd ability to transform into a firebreathing dragon, but I wanted to do something different. This will be a mix of a high school fic and a slayage fic with some dramatic conflict mixed in, just like I know you all like it. There has been no Angel, he’s been completely eradicated from canon. Go with it; I’ll fill you in on backstory as the story progresses, although it’s mostly exactly the same, just without our pokey-haired fiend. Spike and Drusilla didn’t show up, either, obviously, since a human Spike (well, mostly) is the star of this fic. Truly, life for Buffy has been a snore with random freak of the weeks and The Master. Most of the filler non-story arc episodes of season two have happened (like Ted, Bad Eggs, Phases) but since no Angelus happened, the gang still has quite a bit of time left before the year is over. I’m trying for pre-Angelus happy Buffy here, so don’t expect things to be my usual vein of angst and cruelty. And that’s probably a good thing. =]





“Fire? You never said this thing breathed fire, Giles!”

Like a play with perfect timing, the small blue dragon hissed another scorch of flame, luckily missing the Scooby Gang by half a breathe, but leaving the foursome’s body temperatures at a sizzling boil.

“It’s not like I have any books on dragons at hand,” Giles replied from behind Buffy. The gang slowly and silently quaked away from the irate dragon further into the dark graveyard, as if the dragon would lose interest and fly away if they were quiet enough.

“Hey, guys?” Xander remarked in a low voice. “Can we possibly stop the chit chat for a second and oh say figure out a way to slay the man-eating dragon?”

The dragon was tiny, only a baby, but hell, it was a dragon. It looked ferocious enough, sans its stature, with two serrated teeth poking out of its ravenous mouth and small bone white spikes spaced across its sapphire scaly back and triangular head. It lingered a few steps closer, dark blue eyes focused on its next meal, head and wings lowered in a striking position.

“Giles?” Willow asked frightfully as she took another step back.

“I haven’t the slightest—”

“Spread out and circle it.” Buffy had an idea. “At the very least, it’ll focus on just one of us.”

Slowly, Giles, Xander, and Willow crept from behind Buffy and formed a small moving circle around the dragon as it continued to roam toward Buffy. She tried to throw the pointy end of a stake at it, but the wooden tip could not penetrate dragon’s strong skin and shattered into pieces.

“Guys, distract it by throwing something at it,” Buffy shouted.

Giles desperately searched the ground for something. “Buffy, I don’t see—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Xander bravely threw a glass vase of flowers at the beast. The dragon immediately rotated its head to Xander, growled the poor boy into a white-knuckled quiver, and started to roam toward him.

Eyes wide with fear, Xander backed away one step before he tripped over a grave, falling onto the ground.

The dragon loomed over Xander and shrieked an ear-shattering roar, marking its prey. The head lowered, mouth agape, ready for the first bite of Xander meat.

In an all-out effort to stop the dragon, Buffy flew out of nowhere and jump kicked the fiend, making direct contact with its head. Buffy thought the blow wouldn’t be enough, and quickly got back into fighting stance and high kicked the dazed and confused dragon in the head a few more times.

As the dragon attempted to regain its equilibrium, it took one wayward glance at Buffy and tumbled unconscious to the ground.

“All breathe, no bite,” Buffy quipped as she dusted off her hands and helped Xander stand back up.

“Yes, well,” Giles was already alongside Buffy, carefully looking over the beast to make sure it wasn’t breathing, “it was only an infant. I assume a warlock conjured it up before becoming prey to the vampire nest. We should probably examine it closer, possibly let the council have a look at it. Dragons are very rare creatures, especially in this region of the world.”

“Are you sure it’s dead?” Xander asked. “I mean, a few blows to the head didn’t mean night night in Shrek.”

“Or Beowulf,” Willow added with a helpful look.

Buffy and Xander glared at Willow, a little peeved at the reminder of school starting back up.

“What?” Willow asked innocently. “It was on the Winter Reading List...”

“You do know you weren’t suppose to read every book on that list, right?” Xander asked playfully.

“Be that as it may,” Giles interrupted, taking a poke at the dragon with his foot, “we should really get this back to the library before anyone notices.”

Buffy started to drag the dragon away when she thought out loud. “We had a Winter Reading list?”


*~*~*~*~*

Buffy grumbled inwardly as she briskly walked to the library. Giles had called her at the crack of dawn, worry and fear in his voice, and demanded that Buffy meet him at the library immediately. Library? I haven’t even had breakfast yet and he already wants me to slay something. She knew, though, that Giles must have had a damn good reason for asking of her so early; he knew that cranky early morning Slayer was no fun for anyone.

As she pushed opened the double doors to the library, she instinctively noticed the problem.

Wow... what happened here?

The night before, she stashed the tiny dragon in a small cage in the library, with a white tablecloth deceptively placed on top of it so any wandering eyes, such as a certain snide principal, could not see the beast. But the cage...

Well, it wasn’t empty. Not exactly.

Instead of the dragon, a man clad in black with blonde hair, no older than Buffy, lay unconscious in the cage.

Oh boy...

Giles peered at Buffy. “You did remember to—”

“You were here, Giles,” Buffy interrupted in a serious tone. “I put it right in the cage.”

“Well, it’s certainly not here now.” Giles glanced at the man behind the bars. “It’s possible someone swapped him in with a teleportation spell. A warlock or something.”

Buffy cocked her head sideways at the blonde man. “Why don’t we ask?”

“Buffy—”

“What? He’s breathing. Maybe he knows something.”

Buffy stuck her hand in the cage and poked at the blonde haired man.


*~*~*~*~*

He was falling.

No, that wasn’t quite it.

He already fell. He fell on his head.

Yeah, that was it. That could be the only possible explanation for this agony in his head, like he just skydived headfirst into an icicle. Or maybe he wandered onto the streets after a hangover and a semi truck smashed smack dab into him, not noticing the illuminating blonde hair in the nighttime? He couldn’t really tell; he only knew that his head hurt.

And to make matters worse, someone was poking at him.

He wearily opened his eyes, vision slightly blurred and scattered. At first all he could make out was bars – steel, cold bars – that scarred his every thought. A few seconds out of malaise, he noticed the person who was poking at him.

A pretty blonde girl, light as the sun. Her aura... this one’s powerful...

He cocked his head curiously at her. Am I dreaming? Sometimes I take this S&M thing a bit too far...

Sound warped back into him in a blink.

“Heeeeeello?” The girl said, prodding with another poke. “Anyone home?”

He shot up in a quick scuffle, only to hit his head on the cage’s roof.

“Oi!” He yelped. “Where the hell am I and who the bloody hell are you?”

Hostility works on occasion. Just not during my Yoga.

“We’re... um...” The girl looked at the Oxford-type beside her.

The older man looked puzzled, like he was trying to decide whether to keep a secret or not. “Well, you are in Sunnydale, California.” He went with the facts first. “I’m Rupert Giles and that’s Buffy Summers.” He pointed to the girl.

“Name’s Spike,” he replied automatically with a slight wave. He caught himself when he realization set in. “California? Soddin’ hell! You gonna teleport me back to England or am I gonna have to walk?”

“So you’re from England,” Buffy surmised matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, kitten, England. Meaning halfway ‘round the globe. Now if you don’t mind, could you unlock this cage so I can start the walk back? I was right in the middle of a quaint little hangover when I woke up here, of all soddin’ places.”

Buffy gave Giles a look. Giles thought for what felt like an hour before he signaled her to open the cage.

“That’s better,” Spike said, wiping some nonexistent dust off of his black duster as he exited the cage.

“You said teleport?” Giles started.

“Uh... yeah, pops. Witches and ‘locks do it all the time.”

The twosome glanced wide-eyed at him.

“Oh, sod...” Spike exclaimed. I really shouldn’ a said that. “You don’t know about demons and vampires and warlocks, do you? I woulda guessed otherwise with all that power I sense in the girl—”

“I’m the vampire slayer,” Buffy said bluntly, knowing it was time to reveal her super secret identity since he seemed to be adept on all things evil. “And Giles is my watcher.”

Well, well... didn’t think my senses fooled me.

Spike scratched his head. “Slayer? Thought enough with all that power I feel in you. So you know about things that go bump in the night; good for you. I’ll just be on my merry way then...”

He started to mosey off when a voice caught him offguard.

“Do you know anything about dragons, Spike?” Giles asked.

Spike stopped flat and turned his head toward them, looking at them like they were absolutely wacko. Are these loonies serious? “Yeah, pops, I’m a walking encyclopedia of dragon information. You’re soddin’ one stop shop—”

“We only asked because we left a dragon in the cage the night before,” Buffy interrupted bluntly.

“And what?” Spike snorted. “You think I’m a dragon? A rather handsome, dashing and shapeshifting...” he even had a difficult time saying it. “...dragon?”

But the watcher was already closely examining the new arrival. It looked like he saw something of interest and took a few steps toward Spike.

“Where did you get that?” Giles asked, pointing to the small emerald gem that Spike wore around his neck.

“Family heirloom,” Spike responded. He eyed the older man, who looked deep in thought. “I‘ve had it forever. Why?”

“J-just give me one second,” Giles stuttered, practically having a heart attack over what he just found. He lunged for the nearest set of books.

Spike shook his head at the man. “He always like this?”

“Oh, you should see him in the afternoon after he’s had his tea,” Buffy playfully replied.

Spike chuckled, focusing his gaze on Buffy now. She certainly didn’t look the part of the Slayer, with her dyed blonde hair, golden tanned skin, and bubblegum lips something more akin to a supermodel. But her eyes... her eyes to him held some sort of elusive wisdom-esque quality, the green depths piercing right through him and maybe even a little too pleasing for him to handle. Just the sight of her was a bleedin’ oasis of pleasure.

He felt unworthy. He didn’t like the unfamiliar feeling at all.

But even sexier than her eyes – to Spike anyway – was the overwhelming power that coursed off of her like an enrapturing wave that just completely enveloped the mind. The power blew his hair back, so to speak; she was, most certainly, the Slayer. Spike had a certain knack for sensing these things, something he must have acquired from years of being with those old stodgy monks in their boring retreat, and he knew power when he saw it. He could sense it. And this girl most definitely had it.

Maybe more types of power than she or even he realized.

Luckily, his daydream stare seemed to only match her own appreciative gaze, and together they cancelled each other out with bright red blushes after discovering their mutual admiration for each other’s appearances. Looks like we got ourselves a winner here, mate.

Giles returned in the prelude of a looming awkward silence, book in hand. “I’ve got it!”

“Bloody hell,” Spike sighed. “I’m not back to the future or anything, right, doc?”

Buffy giggled at the movie reference.

And what a joy to hear her laugh...

“Well, no.” Giles took the notion into consideration, of Spike being from the future, before he dismissed the idea for its silliness.

Giles opened the book and read quickly and rather anxiously, like a little boy on Christmas peeing his pants over the latest action figure. “It’s written here that an ancient race of people who had the ability to transform themselves into dragons lived many centuries ago. This dragon clan, called ‘The Brood,’ were hunted down to extinction after being demonized by humans for their gift.”

Now Giles had both Buffy and Spike’s full attention. Well, he had Spike’s attention, but also his doubt. What the soddin’ hell does this have to do with me being a bleedin’ dragon?

“Are they evil?” Buffy asked in a way that made it sound like she didn’t want to know the answer.

“On the contrary,” Giles continued, “they were just normal people with unique powers and mostly fought for the good. Some had superhuman senses, but most of the dragon clan lived in harmony with other people, most of them oblivious to their gift.”

“Yeah, I’d say oblivious is right,” Spike finally interrupted the history lesson. “And exactly how do we know that I’m a dragon? Of all soddin’ things on this planet?”

Giles closed the book and a wry, almost eerie smile formed on his lips. “Your dragon gem.”

“What? This old thing?” He pointed to the necklace gem. “Just something I’ve always had, pops.” Spike touched the emerald gem that lay hanging just below his neckline with his fingers, grasping the small sphere.

And that’s when it happened.

The gem started to glow. Dim, at first, but the light quickly grew and soon Spike’s whole face was lit up by the radiating green gem.

Spike looked somewhere between mystified and stupefied. “It never did that before,” he said sheepishly. Oh soddin’ hell...

“And that’s what the book said, too.” Giles loved the feeling of success after his recent failure with Eyghon and subsequently Miss Calendar’s affections. “That a dragon gem would glow when one of the dragon clan touched it.”

Giles and Buffy looked coaxingly at Spike.

“Hey, don’t look at me! I’m just in the dark as you bloody wankers,” Spike said. “Just a boy raised by monks who currently wastes most of his time getting pissed and hung over.”

Buffy’s eyebrows knitted. “...pissed?”

“Drunk, pet,” Spike responded dully. He found the confusion plastered on her face adorable.

“Monks... hmm...” Giles stroked his chin. “Well, I suppose The Watcher’s Council could answer our questions, mostly as to why an extinct human race is still in existence. Only some awakening of some awesome power could incite such a change, possibly a vortex, a shift of some sort, a tear in time and universe and reality itself and that can only mean...”

Both of his blonde comrades looked lost.

Giles laughed. “Yes, well, the council will arrive later today.” He addressed Spike directly now. “In the meantime, I suggest you wait here. At the very least, the council will get you a plane ticket back to your home.”

Spike shrugged. “Fine by me. Not like my life was a roller coaster ride back home or anything.” And not like I had the gorgeous innocent lasses lined up, either. Tainted lasses, maybe, but none bleedin’ pure innocence like her. Those types tended to stay away from him.


*~*~*~*~*

Out of the blue, the library doors barged open.

It was Principal Snyder. Spike knew it was at least an authoritative figure by the suit the man was wearing. And his composure. His eyes were full of abusive authority, expression fiery rage. It looked like he had been snooping for quite some time.

“Well what do we have here?” Snyder said, looking Spike over with contempt. “Being the principal here I know all of the students at Sunnydale High School, and I can say that he isn’t one of them. And without properly checking in as a guest, I might have to call the police and tell them we have an intruder...”

Spike went wide eyed. Giles babbled uselessly.

Buffy gawked something intangible out. “Oh... well... n-no...”

Giles tried anything. “You see, he’s really...”

Among the tomfoolery, Spike thought up something brilliant. He grinned from ear to ear as he took a glance at Giles. Sod it.

“I’m Spike, good ol’ Rupes’ nephew, the foreign exchange student from England.” He put an arm around the fellow Englishman, trying for an air of familiarity. Giles’ expression moved from shocked to bad-actor-trying-to-act after a nudge from Spike.

Snyder stood there, looking like he wasn’t going to buy it or even the fifty cent house.

“You just caught me on a...” Spike tersely examined Giles, looking for something to reinforce his statement.

“Tweed-less day,” Buffy finished for him.

Spike chuckled, trying his best to lighten the situation with a laugh. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Snyder stood perfectly still for an instant, assessing the situation to his fullest, and finally quelling his sadistic nature.

Snyder nodded approvingly. “I definitely see the family resemblance.” He took a hard look at Spike. “I’ll be seeing you in class.”

It took all of the threesome’s will not to burst out laughing as Snyder marched out of the library.

“We better get you signed up for class, or else Snyder will get suspicious,” Buffy already had Spike’s arm in her clutches, dragging him away. “And you’ll have to meet the gang. You’ll love it here in Sunnydale.”

True to his nature, Spike allowed the beautiful girl to drag him off. He kept wondering the entire way to the receptionist’s office how he got himself into this whole dilemma.





Should I continue or toss? Hopefully I’ve piqued your interest enough to at least leave a review... =]

[A/N: Sorry for the belated update; freshman orientation left me tired and wasted. This is the second chapter of the story, mostly a school chapter. I’m setting scene and creating Spike’s character, since he’s pretty unknown to everyone. I hope I don’t give you the vibe that he’s pretentious and too intelligent for his own good. While I do want Spike to be highly intelligent, I don’t want him to be a snob or anything. He just knows lots of stuff, because he’s had lots of experiences and has done lots of stuff in his life. He’s mature, basically. And that will become part of Buffy’s attraction toward him, just like Spike will be attracted to Buffy for her innocence. Buffy POV this chapter. Edit: Oh, and as far as school schedules for Buffy and Spike: they have a block schedule, so new classes are just starting up after Winter.]





The looming apocalypse that would annihilate the entire planet and eventually the whole spankin’ universe finally reared its ugly head to Buffy.

And that abominable apocalypse was known by a simple title: English III.

And, yes, Buffy fluently spoke the language, maybe to the abhorrence of her watcher, but even she had to admit her skills in the harkening gallows of English were a little... wonky. She never really prided herself as a reader or a writer or an analyst or really anything other than the title of Slayer, and she knew she was in way over her head when she first entered the classroom. As she sat down next to Spike in the back of the class, she could quite clearly see the terrifying words etched in large capital letters on the chalkboard:

ORAL REPORT ON WINTER BOOK DUE TODAY

Oral report!? How am I suppose to do an oral report in front of the entire class on a book I haven’t even read? They’ll all laugh at me and say “poor little Buffy, she can’t even read. What does she do with all her spare time anyway? Make dust in the wind?”

Buffy glanced over at Spike, who sat in an all too comfortable position in his chair, almost sitting in a slouch. How can he be so calm in a crisis like this? she wondered.

She noticed his calm, effortless breathing and his super relaxed, tensionless face. It was like the man had no tension whatsoever in his body; not like he was completely devoid of human emotion, but that he never let anything get under his skin. Like being a dragon or being a long way from home or any normal weirdness like that.

Luckily Spike’s gaze was straight ahead and unfocused, almost daydreaming off into nothingness, so Buffy was able to ogle him all she wanted without fear of him noticing. Her eyes traced his delicate cheekbones and piercing blue eyes once again. Even from the profile angle, he still looked totally gorgeous to her. All compact and blonde and light and so not the tall and dark and oversized type.

He’s just so... her mind searched for the right words for him. Different. Unique. One of a kind. In a totally good, mixy way.

And totally gorgeous her mind intuitively finished for her. She was the Slayer, but she was also a girl with eyes.

Buffy somehow managed to get Spike into all of her classes, and even with the high student mortality rate at Sunnydale, it was a pretty arduous feat. She quickly rationalized to Spike that Giles told her in not so many words – really a Giles “look” that she couldn’t really explain – that she should accompany him at all times just in case he ever randomly transformed into an evil firebreathing dragon and decided to burn down the school gym.

Because burning down the gym is bad. Very bad.

So, without speaking about it directly, they had made a rule to stick together for the day.

But if Buffy was really honest with herself, she knew that the Slayer responsibilities were really the last thing on her mind right about now. But those types of prevalent Buffy emotions were dug deep down in teenage girl fantasyland, and she wouldn’t dare try to analyze them or look at them for what they might mean. Now, she was perfectly content with living in the moment and letting the chips fall were they may, or whatever other cliché she could find to let loose and live.

Only oral report equals badness in the current moment.

The bell rang. Class started.

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Armstrong,” the teacher began from in front of her desk. “I’ll be your English teacher for the year. We’ll do many things in this class, from fiction to poetry to writing, and I do expect you to have acquired the basic skills of English from your previous English classes. We will not review basic material like syntax, diction, or the five paragraph essay.”

Oh, Buffy? she inquired hopelessly to herself. ...she’s the one over there, in that sinking ship in the Bermuda triangle.

“I thought it would be a wonderful idea to get to know each other by orally presenting your reports on the books that you read over the Winter.”

Everyone in the class grumbled. The teacher smiled.

“Being able to talk in front of people is one of the most important qualities you can learn in school. We will be doing it often, so get used to it. So, let’s choose our first victim...”

The teacher looked over the attendance sheet, and for an instant a pang of hope shot through Buffy’s veins. Since her last name started with an “S,” it would be quite a while before the teacher got to her name on the list. And in that time, hopefully, she would be able to piece together a book enough from other people’s reports to give a decent oral report herself.

I can do this. Quick-witted Buffy. I’m smart. I’m capable. I can do this.

But then the teacher did something out of the ordinary. “I don’t want to discriminate against people with last names at the end of the alphabet, so we’ll start backwards today.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. I’m doomed. I so can’t do this.

“Buffy Summers?” the teacher called. It might as well have been for the death sentence.

Everyone in the class stared at Buffy. As her cheeks flamed red, she wrestled in her mind about the current conundrum she found herself in. Should she just go up there and wing it? Buffy hadn’t even looked at the Winter Reading List, so the chances were that she would sink rather than swim. Should she just run out of the classroom and hop a bus to Los Angeles and never look back? Or try to convince the teacher that she could discriminate all she wanted against people with last names at the end of the alphabet?

Buffy didn’t think it was possible for her to turn a deeper shade of red. Slaying I can do. Talking in front of a class about something I don’t know... something I can’t do.

And then through the misty haze of utter despair, her knight in shiny silver armor galloped out of nowhere and gallantly rescued her.

“We did our report together,” Spike mumbled to the teacher. As Buffy rotated her head to her savior, she sank into a false sense of relief. Oh great. Looks like Spike’s going down with me now. At least he might have had an excuse before.

“Oh, okay,” the teacher replied, somewhat doubtful. “That’s fine I guess. And you are?”

“Spike, I’m a new student,” he responded tersely as he got up and dragged Buffy up to the front of the class.

Buffy tried to stay behind Spike, praying that everyone would look at him instead of her. It felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders now. She just wanted to get this over with so she could deal with ordinary stuff, like demons and vampires and dragons and apocalypses. She darted a glance to Spike, who looked unnervingly comfortable.

Not like Spike’s read any Winter Reading List book. He just got here.

She watched with hope as Spike swiped the Winter Reading List off of a student’s desk. He browsed through the list a little and it looked like he contemplated something for a few seconds.

...could it be?

Spike took a deep breath. “So we read the dystopian novel The Handmaid’s Tale over the Winter. Buffy and I both found its themes of women in subjugation enlightening, and the various ways in which women lost their freedoms particularly powerful.”

Buffy felt overjoyed. He read one of them! Nervousness quickly sank back in as Spike waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he continued in her place.

“The social critiques on censorship, separation of religion and state, and contemporary feminism were all relevant at the time of the novel’s creation, which I think was 1984...”

“Nineteen eighty-five,” the teacher corrected.

“Yeah, 1985,” Spike said.

Another awkward silence ensued as Spike waited for Buffy to speak. He shot her a look, hoping she would say something now that he got her started, to at the very least make this look legitimate. When she didn’t speak again, he spoke for her again.

“I know Buffy found the different ceremonies and practices in the novel to be completely degrading for women, but I thought they were needed devices to portray the sordid state our society could become someday.”

The teacher’s interest was sparked by that statement. “Could you read one of the passages aloud, please?” the teacher asked.

“Sure,” Spike responded. He swiped a book from one of the students in the front of the classroom and thumbed for the right page.

“Ah, here we are,” Spike said as he jammed the book in Buffy’s hands and pointed to the paragraph. He gave her a “sorry, but you have to say something” apologetic look.

Buffy looked funny at the unknown words, but read anyway.

“My red skirt is hitched up to my waist though no higher. Below it the Commander is fucking. What he is fucking is the lower part of my body. I do not say making love, because this is not what he's doing. Copulating too would be inaccurate, because it would imply two people and only one is involved. Nor does rape cover it: nothing is going on here that I haven't signed up for.”

The class sat very silent and still, like the eye of a hurricane, after hearing the gritty paragraph.

Spike broke the silence with his conclusion. “We thought it was a pretty good dystopian book. Definitely not as good as 1984 or Brave New World, but a decent warning novel overall.”

Umm... “we?”

The teacher nodded her head approvingly. “Anything you’d like to add, Buffy?”

Buffy’s eyes darted to Spike. He quietly nudged her with his elbow, urging her to say something.

“Umm...” Buffy looked down at the cover of the book in her hands. “The Handmaid’s Tale really makes you think. Like, before I read it I thought the government controlling everything would be a good thing... but now I know better...”

Argh! Stupid, stupid Buffy!

The class stifled giggles. The teacher raised her eyebrow at Buffy.

“Uh, what Buffy is trying to say,” Spike cut in, “is that you don’t really understand something completely until it actually happens to you. This book was good enough to create the experience of being imprisoned by your government. And I think that’s something all stories should strive for: creating experience.”

The teacher smiled. “Very good analyses. I’m glad you both enjoyed reading the book.”

Both Buffy and Spike looked curiously at each other, not knowing whether they should feel relieved or burst out laughing.

“So who is our next victim?” the teacher went back to the attendance list, effectively dismissing the twosome.

Spike and Buffy went back to their seats. As the next oral report started, Buffy leaned into Spike’s ear. He stiffened from his slouch, ramrod straight, feeling her warm breath.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Spike shrugged. “Don’t mention it, pet. It was nothing.”

No it wasn’t Buffy thought. It was a very not-nothing type of thing to do. Mature, even. She kept the thought to herself, though, deciding to thank Spike in other more sensual ways later in the day.





So, yeah. We’ll get to Spike as a dragon later in the day when the watchers arrive, but first I wanted to set the school scene. Tell me if you’re still interested. Your feedback feeds my muse. =]

[A/N: Thanks for reviewing last chapter! :D Mostly Spike’s POV this chapter. And don’t be mad at Giles or Xander. They’re good people and they only want to do what is best for Buffy. They are completely in character because they want to make decisions for Buffy behind her back and they basically treat her like a child. Specifically Giles; I know Xander was a bit rude this chapter, but he’s always like that to Buffy’s potential mates. Notice how Xander was nice to Riley in seasons four and five, because he somehow knew it was a passionless romance. But I’m going off in tangent... enjoy the chapter and be sure to review! =]





“He so totally saved me in English today,” Buffy told Willow, who was sitting next to her in the school cafeteria. “I mean, like, I was ready to run out of the classroom screaming, but then he spoke and it was like everything was all better.”

Willow looked at Spike from her spot next to Buffy at the table. He was in line getting food. “He is pretty cute...”

Buffy smirked, also taking in the image of Spike. “I guess some girls might find him attractive...”

Willow gave Buffy a look.

Buffy giggled. “Okay, if they have eyes. But he’s all mature and mysterious. He would never want to... with me...” she trailed and decided on fact and not opinion. “I can’t believe he’s only seventeen.”

Xander choked on his food with a cough. “Maybe dragon boy decays slower than normal people,” he offered.

Buffy glared at Xander, eyes penetrating him. “Spike is a human, not a demon.”

“Only sometimes,” Xander said somewhat truthfully.

Buffy peered even harder at Xander. “You’re still mad at him for trying to eat you, aren’t you?”

Xander looked mock-shocked. “Not at all, Buffy. Something like that can be easily... swallowed.”

Buffy laughed at his pun. “I seem to remember a certain hyena incident last year...”

Xander’s eyes went wide at the reference. “I thought we agreed to never talk about that ever again...”



*~*~*~*~*


Spike moseyed over to the table where Buffy and the gang sat. He thought Sunnydale was a pretty nice and normal school, besides the occasion demonic activity. He saw that each table had a different mantra of school clique: populars, preps, greasers, nerds, and misfits. He suspected that Buffy and her gang fell under the latter category. Or maybe it was misunderstood? Bleh, I think they all fall under that category... And it’s not that he minded being stereotyped with them, because he really didn’t, only he felt that he might be a little too old for this type of stuff.

Homecoming and dances and bloody Alicia Silverstone.

He put his tray on the table and sat across from Buffy in an open seat.

“Oh, it’s dragon boy.” Xander didn’t look impressed.

Buffy was about to say something, to defend her new friend or at the very least reprimand her very rude one, but Spike didn’t look the least bit hurt.

I did try to soddin’ eat him, boy has a point he thought to himself.

Spike examined the boy a bit closer while he was eating and found the evitable: Xander surreptitiously stole glances at Buffy. As Spike started to eat his meal, which he didn’t particularly enjoy because it was unhealthy and full of grease, he could see that Xander had a constant awareness of Buffy’s presence, like she was the sun or something. And while it was nice Xander wasn’t gawking at her genitalia or anything, looking at Buffy’s pretty face probably got him off just as much.

He’s bleedin’ obsessed with her, alright.

With all this in mind – the almost eating him and the obsession – Spike had no trouble seeing why Xander might be a little hostile and bitter toward him. I mean, it probably felt to Xander like Spike was swooping in on his beloved and untainted angel.

Gotta straighten that boy out sometime...

He had to admit, though, he kind of liked it here in Sunnydale. Beats the hell out of before. True, wandering aimlessly between bar and pub, drinking to inebriation that eventually lost its effect of numbness, wasn’t exactly Spike’s idea of fun. If only the monks hadn’t...

Spike couldn’t wait until nighttime when the vampires came bump in the night and he could practice a little on them. To him, it would be fun; he could see what Buffy was capable of with all that power he sensed in her and he could show her what he could do with all the technique he learned from the monks.

And then we can...

When Spike looked to his side, he saw that another of the gang had popped up. This one had multicolored hair.

Willow spoke up to introduce them. “Oh, this is Oz, he’s my boyfriend.”

Oz nodded at Spike. “Hey.”

“‘llo, ‘mate,” Spike replied. Seems like a decent guy. Just as decent as the red-headed girl.

“And that’s Spike,” Buffy said.

“She means the dragon that almost ate me,” Xander put in.

Oz looked lost. “Do I need glasses? You don’t look like a dragon to me...”

“Spike can transform into a dragon,” Buffy said matter-of-factly.

Only have once Spike didn’t say.

“Score one for the transformation squad, right, Oz?” Xander said with mock jubilance. “You should both get all ugly one day and see who would win in a fight.”

“I breathe fire,” Spike said.

“You win,” Oz quickly admitted defeat and went back to his meal.

Buffy and Willow giggled. Xander went back to stealing glances at Buffy and eating his sandwich

Looks like all’s quiet on the western front Spike thought as he finished his meal.


*~*~*~*~*


So school had finally ended, and rather uneventfully with a physical education class. Buffy and Spike entered the library to see if the council had arrived yet.

The place looked quite different from earlier in the day. First of all, a sign was placed outside of the library doors stating that the library was closed. Now, Spike had only known Giles for a day, but in that time he knew the fellow Englishman probably took his side job of librarian very seriously, like every other bleedin’ thing.

Inside the library, mountains of voluminous varieties of books, which mostly looked to be on dragons, were scattered throughout the room in big piles. Giles was alone at his desk skimming through one of those books, his hair disheveled and glasses slowly falling off of his nose. It looked like he had been at this the whole day.

“Giles?” Buffy said.

Giles flinched like he was just awakened from a deep sleep. Or deep read.

“Oh, Buffy,” Giles said. “There you are. School over yet?”

Buffy grinned. “Giles... did you forget to have your afternoon tea again?”

Giles readjusted his glasses, which were just about to fall off. “It’s just that the council will be here any minute and I would like to supply them with the proper information...”

“Speaking of which,” Spike said, “you find anything new, pops?”

“Well, it’s just that I need to translate the Aegean from the Mesopotamian and even then sometimes I’m left with a hieroglyphic or two, and sometimes it doesn’t quite come out at all...”

Buffy blinked. She didn’t understand all that language stuff. “As interesting as this sounds, and with those party hard watchers on the horizon, I think I’ll go see what Willow’s up to... maybe she can help me with my homework or something.”

“Yes,” Giles agreed, “this will be quite boring, especially when the council arrives. They’ll mostly just examine different texts, maybe even put Spike through a few tests...”

“Tests?” Spike asked. Buffy looked just as perplexed.

“Oh, nothing bad,” Giles replied. “They wouldn’t want to push you over the edge to your dragon form ever...”

Spike scratched his head. “You just lost me, mate.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “Since when did we know what triggered the jump to baby dragon form?”

It looked like Giles recounted the entire day in his mind, going over each minute with careful intensity, before he realized he hadn’t told them. “Oh, you don’t know yet. Spike’s ability to transform is directly correlated with his emotions. I’m not exactly sure what type of emotions; it’s possibly just very passionate emotions, like for instance survival on the brink of death. We’ll look into it when the council arrives.”

Spike nodded. More information we can get on the inner dragon, the better.

“One thing I can say, though,” Giles started again, “is that Spike must have remarkable self-control and patience if this is the first time he turned into a dragon...”

“I think it is,” Spike said. “Seems like something you wouldn’t soddin’ forget, even though I did...”

“I suspect being raised by monks was a big factor in this self-control,” Giles replied, “maybe even the dragon itself.”

Buffy’s head was doing backflips. “Willow. Homework.” She nodded.

She took a few steps to the door when she stopped and turned to Spike.

“We’re going to the Bronze later tonight, it’s the local hangout,” Buffy said shyly, her voice crackling. “You’re welcome to come, if you want.”

Shy, coy invite, eh? She knows just how to push my buttons without trying...

Spike nodded at the invitation, sending her comfort. “Sure, pet. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Buffy smiled coyly. Spike could see pure, unadulterated hope and happiness in her eyes, and he knew it was a rare occurrence. And also a beautiful one.

Then she left.



*~*~*~*~*


“Well don’t she doth teach the torches to burn bright,” Spike said after Buffy was out of earshot.

Giles smiled wryly. “That’s Shakespeare,” he said, reminiscing on distant memories of teenage romance. Reminiscing always made him feel so deliciously aged and sad. He had, believe it or not, gone through that whole phase at one point in his life, too. Only he didn’t have as bad of luck as Bu—

“You can’t date Buffy,” Giles said flatly. “I won’t allow you.”

Bloody hell! I need the watcher’s permission now?

Even with Spike’s inner thoughts yelling, he had the self-control to ask a simple, pivotal question. “And why is that, ‘mate?”

Giles analyzed his bluntness and decided that it probably wasn’t the best strategy. “I take that back.”

Spike smiled. I knew the watcher liked me.

“I’m respectfully asking you, from one man to another, to not start a relationship with Buffy. I’m not telling you, I’m asking you kindly.”

Bloody hell! Pullin’ the respect card on me...

“And this is not for my sake, but for Buffy’s sake,” Giles continued. “She is always at her worst when she’s in a relationship...”

Oh, like that’s a bleedin’ excuse...

Spike snorted. “Don’t want your little innocent princess to become tainted by me, do you?”

“N-no—”

“Am I not bleedin’ good enough for her or somethin’?”

“It’s not like that, Spike,” Giles said, “and you know it.”

Spike shrugged with a half-laugh. “Yeah, ‘guess I do. Just wanted to get all that Dawson’s Creek teen angst cliché out of me. And lighten the mood a little with a laugh.”

Spike scratched his head, the feeling of having to stay platonic with Buffy eating him from the inside. Not a laughing matter at all. “So, why again, pops?”

Giles took off his glasses and polished them. He must do this polishing routine whenever things get rough.

“Because something terrible always happen when Buffy dates. It’s probably a Slayer curse.”

“Yeah, but it’s her decision, watcher,” Spike said. “She can date whomever she wants.”

Giles couldn’t help but smile at the proper usage of “whom.”

“You’re not her father.” Spike thought about what he just said. “Maybe her father figure, but not her father.”

Giles looked Spike in the eye. “From what I’ve seen, you live by a code, a set of principles, thanks to the monk upbringing. I respect you as a person. I wouldn’t be asking you unless I knew you would acc—”

“Fine.”

“What?”

“Sure. I’ll keep my grubby paws off her. Won’t date Buffy.”

Giles blinked, astonished.

“It obviously means a lot to you, ‘mate,” Spike said. “I figure you know the girl’s best interest better than I do... and whether she knows what’s in her best interest better than you is an entirely different discussion. But yeah, I won’t do anything with Buffy.”

Giles looked shock. “So you—”

“You have my word, pops,” Spike said. “Won’t lay a finger on her pretty little face.”

Giles looked hard at Spike. “Good, because I know you wouldn’t ever—”

“Break a promise?” Spike asked. “Never have, never will. My word is all I have in this life.”

Giles formed a small smile at the philosophy.

Giles wasn’t off the hook yet, though. “But I think I deserve to know why,” Spike said.

“I already told you—”

“Specifics, pops.”

Giles sighed. “Okay. I guess it’s the least I can do. Better that you understand fully, too. I’ll just go right down the list of boyfriends, or potential boyfriends, almost causing apocalyptic damage. First, there was Owen. We almost got him killed, along with Xander, Willow, and myself, in a morgue one night when Buffy refused to patrol because she wanted to go out with him that night.”

Not one for sacred duty and responsibility, eh? Spike’s monk side thought. His other side, though, knew that even Buffy deserved some time off. “Tough luck, there.”

“And then there is, of course, Xander,” Giles continued, “whose obsession over Buffy severely clouded her judgment and led to her temporarily death to The Master. Of course, Xander brought her back to life, but he’s the one that is responsible for putting her in that position in the first place...”

She died? Spike thought. But he went with the obvious because it was more safe. “Boy doesn’t like me much.”

“Yes, well, I suspect he’s jealous of the attention you are receiving from Buffy. And the fact that you—”

“Almost ate him, I know.” Spike picked at his scarred eyebrow. “Any other heartbreakers?”

Giles went back to polish mode. “I’ve saved the worst for last: Billy Fordham. She had a relationship with him for a few weeks following him being turned—”

“She dated a vampire?” Spike looked amazed. “Girl’s gotta pretty wicked dark side, does she?”

Giles ignored the question of Buffy possibly having some darkness in her, opting for a much simpler fact explanation. “Billy was her childhood crush, and he wasn’t a vampire when they started the relationship at the beginning of her junior year... only he had to become a vampire because he had cancer.”

“Ouch, tough break, that is,” Spike said. “Date Buffy and have cancer. That’s like warping into Hugh Hefner’s life and dying of a heart attack on the first orgasm.”

“And even with all that in mind,” Giles continued. “I can say now without a doubt that you are not from this dimension. Power like yours, even potential or unawakened power, would be known by the council and the coven, and probably sought after by several demons. Since you know this world well, I can only assume you are from an alternate parallel universe. There has been a great shift in this world because of you, so it’s very likely that you could create a tear in the dimension and be forced back to your world...”

Spike blinked. “So what you are saying, mate, is that I can fade away at any time?”

“Well, yes.”

“That would definitely put a strain on the relationship,” Spike said. And then—

“That’s just great,” Spike said with mock jubilance. “Get sucked back into my bleedin’ world...”

Giles’ curiosity was peaked. “What happened there, anyway? I know that up until the end you must have lived a perfectly comfortably life with monks in some far off retreat. But why did you leave them to become a drunk?”

“That’s something I’ll either be taking to the grave or back to my world, watcher.”

“Fair enough.”

There was a pause before Spike continued. “And you do realize that by not bleedin’ allowing me to date her you are making it that much soddin’ worse. Unattainability breathes attraction. You should soddin’ know that by now, watcher.”

“Yes,” Giles agreed, “but then you probably live by a code you’ve never broken your entire life, and I highly doubt you would over a girl, even Buffy.”

Spike cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, mate. I probably wouldn’t. Seems like you got me all figured out, exploitin’ my self-worth and all.”

I just hope I don’t end up bleedin’ regretting and repenting over this conversation later...

Silence ensued, and then the Watcher’s Council arrived.





I’m sad to say that I’ll be on a two week vacation starting tomorrow, so no updates will be made until at least two weeks from now. I’m very sorry; I never expected this fic to have any sizable response. In fact, when I first wrote it I thought no one at all would read it, and thusly I could safely go on vacation to Hawaii with a clean conscience. So, yeah. Very sorry about that; I hate it when people just drop fics for a little while. This is all, of course, not to say that I don’t positively adore response of any kind. Because I do very muchly. So don’t forget to review and keep my insanity focused on ideas for this fic. I know a lot happened this chapter: we set up the want and the conflict. And you all always make my ideas that much better when you talk about it.

[A/N: So I’m in Hawaii, at this beautiful resort with sandy beaches and a nice blue ocean and dolphins you can swim in the water with, and the first song I hear over the radio at lunch when I get there is... *drum roll* Goodbye To You by Michelle Branch. This, of course, immediately makes me ruminate over why they chose the song for that particular episode. At first I thought it was Buffy saying goodbye to Giles, then I thought it was Buffy saying goodbye to herself (bleak and depressing, I know), and then a part of me thought it was Buffy saying goodbye to loving Angel because they never really connect after that (although I think that was just the Spuffy side of me). But, yeah, I’m at this awesome resort and I can’t stop thinking about Buffy... how ‘bout that? :D I got a really painful cluster headache a little way into the vacation that stuck like a hot poker into the side of my head almost the whole way through the vacation, so I can’t really say I had a blast. Oh well. :(

The chapter’s sort of a tweener, a bridge, just build up with no action or resolution, the sex without the climax, Stairway to Heaven without the solo, and I’m very sorry about that. When I got home from vacation, I just wrote and wrote and wrote until my hands were about to fall off. I’m usually very slow at writing, always too harsh on myself and repeatedly self-editing and deleting perfectly mediocre work, but everything just seemed to flow out here. When I got done, I realized that I had written way more than one chapter, and so I had to logically split it into two: the bridge and then the action. Some (hopefully) good stuff here. Spike seems to pick up his first male friend, and his name interestingly starts with an “X.” Some Watcher Council recap. It never got a chapter of its own yet because it’s a.) kinda boring b.) ruins the mystery of Spike and c.) a part of a semi-big twist I brewed up. So nyah! :D And this Spike at his most Spike-like, probably.]


Chapter Four: “My Obsession”


Spike couldn’t really focus on the matter at hand, his mind a cesspool of whirling and twirling thoughts. And he really needed to focus here, it was now or never, all or nothing, life or death – color him cliché – he was on the ropes and about to be TKOd. He tried to straighten up and just do it like the Nike slogan, but his mind kept leaping back to the Watcher’s Council meeting.

Old stodgies...

The Council, like Giles had aptly stated before forcing him to chauvinistically abstain from becoming involved with Buffy, put him through several boring and dull tests. Some just questions on his background, some on his intelligence, some on his principles, some on his reflexes, some on his fighting ability. He especially liked the last two; when three of the Council’s biggest and most menacing bodyguards tried to jump him all at the same time with their little batons and sticks and un-black belt karate, he got a great rush that made him feel alive as he fought them off all at once and came out victorious.

He was on the edge when he fought. Spike wanted to stand as close to the edge as possible without going over.

Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center.

And so he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t concentrate on this one thing that he needed so badly, more than anything in this world, more than oxygen or water or food or leprosy.

Bollocks. I can’t make this shot.

“C’mon, before my clothes go outta style,” the punk teenager heckled in an attempt to thwart Spike’s victory at this game of standard pool.

Spike tightened up, laying belly down across the pool table so he could hit the cue ball, and made a few practice strokes.

And then, with the grace of a swan, Spike sunk the eight-ball right in the hole with an inventive double-carom of the cue ball.

Spike half-grinned. “Your clothes are already outta style, mate.” He put the pool stick on the table. “I believe the wager was fifty dollars?”

The opponent grumblingly reached for his wallet and took out two twenties and a ten.

“You hustled me,” he said as he handed over the cash.

“That I did, mate, that I did,” Spike mumbled as he put the money in his wallet and walked off.

He scored the club for a friend. The indie rock band shook the room.

Didn’t Buffy say she’d be at the Bronze?

Platonic or not, Spike was never one to disappoint a lady. ’ve never once before...



*~*~*~*~*


Buffy took another self-conscious glance at herself in her closet mirror. She was quietly second-guessing the dark burgundy top and white skirt she decided on after almost a half hour of profound deliberation.

“Does this outfit make me look fat?” Buffy asked.

Willow laughed. “C’mon, Buffy, you’ve been at this for almost an hour. You look fantastic.”

Buffy smiled wryly at her best friend. “You’re just saying that. I don’t want to be the ugly duckling, the one everyone laughs at and asks ‘does she even own a mirror?’ I mean, Spike’s probably been with tons of beautiful women from all around Europe who are older and more mature and actually pretty and have a life and...” Buffy trailed as her eyes widened.

She made an unintelligible whine as she slouched back down to her bed. “I’m so not the confidence builder.”

Willow sat down next to her and tried to cheer her friend up. “He said he would come, right?”

Buffy smiled as she remembered the conversation. “He said he wouldn’t miss it... and he called me pet.” Her cheeks went red.

“Then you have nothing to worry about. You look great.” Willow stood up and motioned Buffy towards the door. “Let’s go. Oz will be playing soon.”

But all Buffy could think about when she left was how “fantastic” turned into “great” and how Spike would feel about her and if he would even want to dance.



*~*~*~*~*


Spike spotted the back of what seemed to be a depressed Xander, dressed in a casual plaid collared shirt and jeans, at a table next to a pillar, so he moseyed right on over.

“‘llo, ‘mate,” Spike greeted as he took the seat next to Buffy’s friend.

Xander sighed. “Oh, it’s dragon breathe.”

Spike looked over his unpolished nails, not looking at all offended.

Now’s as good a time as ever to straighten this kid out...

“So when did this start?” Spike asked nonchalantly.

Xander’s curiosity was sparked enough to warrant a response. “When did what start?”

“This nasty little infatuation you have with Buffy,” Spike stated flatly, still looking over his nails.

Xander colored himself shocked. “What!? I’m not infatuated with Bu—”

“Infatuation, obsession, whatever,” Spike interrupted indifferently.

There was an awkward pause as Xander couldn’t find the words to combat the blonde man because, well... he was entirely correct.

“She is quite the pretty picture.” Spike ignored Xander’s glare. “And she is the one and the only Slayer. But you don’t have to worry about me, ‘mate, because I was told to stay away. And I will. I’m no threat to you and your chance with her. So just bark instead of bite.”

Xander looked relieved at first, because Buffy being in love with someone that wasn’t him was probably his biggest fear, at least next to Nazi clowns and listening to Cordelia talk about clothes and death, but then he remembered the original subject of the conversation.

“We’re just friends, Buffy and me,” Xander said defensively with a faux-smile, trying to hide what used to be a well-kept secret between just him and Willow. “Nothing more. I’m dating Cordelia, actually.”

Spike scratched his head. “Bloody hell! This place is more bollocks up then I thought. You have a relationship with someone else when it’s obvious you’re totally obsessed with a certain blonde Slayer?”

Xander put his arms in the air. “Why am I even talking about this with dragonboy?”

“Oh, c’mon, mate,” Spike prodded with a knowing grin. “You know it’s true. I’ve bleedin’ been here a day and I can blatantly see it. When you’re around her, you act like she’s your most valuable possession, like she’s the sun and you’re a plant, like you’d let her take a ride any day of the week. She drives you crazy, and she likes to do it. Makes her get up in the morning and put on nice clothes and makeup and all.”

Xander’s eyes went evil. He was about to say something when Spike rose a finger in the air.

“Waitress,” Spike called to the passing brunette who was equipped with an empty tray in her hands.

The somewhat attractive waitress walked up to their table and smiled coyly. “You need something, sugar?”

Spike gave his best devilish grin, looking her innocently in the eyes to complete the paradox.

He saw Xander roll his eyes. Told you I wasn’t pursuing Buffy, ‘mate.

“Could I have another bottle of Jack?” Spike asked gruffly.

Xander looked openly interested, hoping Spike would be shot down and asked for his ID.

The waitress smiled, not even batting an eyelash. “Sure, sweetie. Anything else?”

Xander’s mouth fell open. Not. Even. Carded.

Spike glanced at Xander, who’s mouth was somewhere on the floor. “You want anything, Xand, while the pretty waitress is here?”

Xander was shocked, but he wasn’t stupid. He saw the sordid opportunity to thwart Spike. He addressed the waitress directly. “You do know that he’s only—”

As quick as the eye, one of Spike’s hands shot to Xander’s mouth to muffle the remainder of his statement.

Spike smiled awkwardly at the waitress, hand still over Xander’s mouth. “You’ll have to excuse my friend, he’s going through a bit of a rough time. Relationship trouble.”

Xander gnawed at Spike’s hand. Spike winced.

Wanker bit me!

“Xand’ll have a coke. And while we’re at it, get me a bottle of your lightest rum along with the Old Number Seven. Gonna be a long night.”

The waitress nodded and went to get their drinks.

Spike took his hand off of Xander’s mouth. “You tryin’ to get us soddin’ kicked out or something, ‘mate?”

Xander enunciated with his hands. “I’m not exactly the poster boy of police prosperity, but the legal age of drinking in California is—”

“Yeah, yeah, I bleedin’ know. Twenty one. Soddin’ Americans and their stupid laws. But it’s only like five where I’m from, so I figure it’s no big deal to crack a few laws that are nonexistent at home.”

Xander studied Spike’s face. “But don’t you think you’ll get a little... loopy? And around Buffy?”

Spike chuckled. “Not everyone becomes a fool when drunk, those are just common symptoms. I personally get depressed when I drink. And with news of being from a soddin’ alternative dimension and possibly the catalyst of a bleedin’ apocalypse in this one, I need some drunken depression right about now.”

Xander blinked. “That’s... well, that’s depressing.”

“S’alright,” Spike mumbled. “Let’s just wait for Buffy without killing each other in the process, yeah?”

Xander agreed not by saying or doing anything, but by ceasing any preemptive assaults.

The waitress made her return with their drinks.

Spike immediately took a healthy dose of his Jack Daniels while Xander dove for his coke.

“Hold on there, speedracer,” Spike said. “You wanna loosen up a bit or not? The soddin’ clock sprig cannot be wound any tighter in you.” He pointed to the bottle of rum. “I didn’t get this rum for me.”

Xander thought hard about the offer before he accepted. “What the hell,” he said with a shrug. “Hit me.”

“S’not blackjack.” Spike grinned wickedly and poured just the right amount of rum in Xander’s coke. He took the lime on the lip of the glass, squeezed it dry, and threw it in the concoction. “This is the Cuba Libre, the Mentiritas, the little lie.”

Xander looked completely lost.

“Known by bloody incoherent Americans as Rum and Coke.” He pushed the glass back to Xander.

Xander started to take a sip when Spike stopped him again.

“Ah-ah, Speedy Gonzales, you need to mix it first.”

Xander twirled a spoon inside the highball glass. “This couldn’t be any weirder.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Xander took his first sip, which quickly turned into a full-blown chug.

“I’m here with someone I openly hate, who surprisingly knows me better than most people, having my first alcoholic beverage. I’ll be fifty-eight, have one kidney, and be remembering this day with nostalgia.”

Spike bit a laugh. “That’s life for you: always cruel, sometimes ironic and always an experience.”

Xander grinned a little at that as he took another sip.

As the twosome continued to drink together in silence, an unspoken camaraderie quickly developed.

In the silence, Spike recalled the naïve drinking event with Xander like it happened years ago and it wasn’t him who orchestrated the whole sordid event but some other more evil person. He was being pretty damn reckless, with the double underage drinking offense. He was about to scorn himself when he remembered that this part of his mind came from the monks. Probably wouldn’t even bleedin’ be here right now in Sunnydale if the monks hadn’t...

Spike also tainted innocence; the same innocence that he regarded as the rarest and most empyreal commodity. He considered his actions of the highest offense and the most egregious sin. He knew that Dante Alighieri reserved the deepest part of hell for him and what he just did.

Tainting innocence.

It was inebriated innocence that Xander happily wanted ruined, yes, and that would make Spike sleep at night. But wasn’t all innocence like that? Something you had and didn’t want to have and when broken you wanted it back and could never ever get it back?

You can never get innocence back...

Xander broke the comfortable silence. “So why aren’t you and Buffy...?” He sounded “loose,” like Spike wanted him to be, and not all sensitive and angsty like he was before. But did he look a bit drunk? I thought he could hold more than a little girl...

“Watcher forbid me,” Spike shot back tersely. “But I dun’ really wanna talk about me. I wanna tell you something very important. I think you fall under this category and it would really help if you knew.” So you can bleedin’ finally get over Buffy and get on with your life he didn’t add.

Xander stared at Spike. “What?”

Spike drank the final drops of his Jack Daniel’s Tennessee whiskey, capping it off, before he began. “Too many guys have the silly notion that a woman will complete them or make them feel alive or make everything better. It’s all complete bollocks.”

Xander looked perplexed.

“You need to know, ‘mate,” Spike said, putting the empty bottle of Jack on a passing waitress’ tray, “that a woman will not complete you as a human being. You need to complete yourself, because in the end you’re the single solitary architecture of your life. Everyone’s got their problems. Don’t assign a girl yours.”

A haze of gloomy silence overtook the table again.

Xander refilled his coke with the pitcher on the table and made the Rum and Coke drink again himself.

“That’s kind of bleak,” Xander concluded finally.

Spike made a small, melancholy smile at the kid’s straightforward observation. “Yeah... it kinda is.”



*~*~*~*~*


In Buffy’s mind, the plan was perfect. Earlier in the evening she had consulted Oz for the absolutely most sensual dancing song his band could play. They nailed one down, and Oz agreed to play it on Buffy’s cue. With the help of the song to alter the ambiance, Buffy would ask Spike for an innocent little dance. And, then, Spike would get his reward for saving her.





Yes, I really did just leave it at the door. Don’t kill me. My head wouldn’t look good on your wall, it really wouldn’t. :( Expect a ton of action next chapter, which is already complete as far as the first draft is concerned, still needs to be edited to hell and back, though. Reviews = muse, as always. I love them and cherish them and they give me the inspiration to write and also make me feel all warm and fuzzy As I Lay Sleeping at night. And I realize I just reconnected my death via Faulkner’s glorious novel so I’ll just leave now. V_V

[A/N: Thanks to Pam S, guest, Cheryl Jan Haswell, Kratos, Ariadne, Jin, Verda, anonymouse, and cordykitten for reviewing. Cookies and kudos to you all. This chapter is the first climax, it’s what I’ve been building towards. Really, it’s the first big action. Sorry about the wait; I had to completely rewrite this chapter to get Spike’s POV and feelings as best I could.]




Chapter Five: “I Can’t Dance”



Spike was bouncing coins off of the table and into an empty glass, having a perfectly entertaining time playing the trite bar game with Xander, when he sensed her in the back of his mind. She was soddin’ five blocks away and he could clearly feel her en route.

Here she comes, the forbidden fruit.

And Spike wasn’t going to lie; he might be decent at this sensing thing, he might later comment to Willow with a cocky smirk that she has some witch in her, but he was no Yoda. He couldn’t sense people from miles away, maybe at point blank range if he was completely focused and clearheaded, but people just didn’t randomly pop up in his mind like a pop tart out of a toaster.

All I need now, a soddin’ connection with her.

But he couldn’t deny it. Denial was not in his nature; the worst lies were the lies we told to ourselves, his mind would say. He felt the connection, and it was remarkably deep and somehow profound. And even though he might take a step back and assess the situation with a completely jaded outlook, call himself silly and juvenile because he’d only known the girl for a day, he couldn’t deny it.

He couldn’t deny it because it was there. It was a real, living thing, and not make believe. Even between blocks of residential houses and pet shops and apartments and record stores he could feel the connection between them.

Spike quickly manned his guns: he had to remember Giles’ spiel, he had to remember his own promise to the overprotective man.

He had to forego impulse for the night.

Maybe forever, you melodramatic git.

As she roamed closer, her aura started to envelop him, and she became like an ocean. How did you keep from soddin’ drowning in an ocean? He was drowning in her, and she was the only person that could throw him a lifesaver.

Bloody hell he scolded himself. This is all the soddin’ watcher’s fault. He should know better, that you always want what you can’t have.

Spike knew, though, that Giles must have perfectly understood the philosophy. The old man had several years under his belt, and most of those probably not in exile.

And so Spike could only infer that Giles also somehow saw the connection between himself and Buffy and, with past grievances, built the insurmountable wall that Spike now faced.

Spike silently wondered if Romeo and Juliet would have loved each other if their families hadn’t forbidden it, if wanting what you couldn’t have was the sole proprietor of this attraction for her or if it was something else entirely that he couldn’t quite pinpoint right now.

Just get her out of your mind, mate he said to himself. The more you think about her, the more you want her. Same rules as anyone else.

And so he shook his head – he threw himself the proverbial lifesaver and saved himself like he always had in the past – and went back to bouncing coins into the glass, trying to act oblivious and innocent to it all.

That was, of course, until she arrived. When that happened, his sturdy foundation suddenly became that of a washed away bridge, just a puddle of clay, and all he could do was focus on her.

Bloody hell Spike raged to himself. Here I am lecturing on the bloody subject of not putting girls on towerin’ pedestals and...

He wanted to describe his thoughts on her but he knew he had to choose his words carefully, even in his mind. His impulse, his first instinct told him watching her emerge through the swarms of people in the room was like watching the birth of a young goddess.

But he couldn’t allow himself such a hyperbolic description, with or without this Giles-induced attraction attached. He couldn’t say that she was a completely unique constellation of attributes, his Halley’s comet. He couldn’t say that all the stars shined in her name, or that flowers only bloomed because she lived on this earth.

It wasn’t just a Buffy exclusive club, though; he couldn’t say these things to any girl. Doing so would violate some not enumerated code of relationships, of people, really. Because you always wanted what you couldn’t have and never wanted what was readily available to you.

And so Spike was left in a Catch-22, with only Yossarian and friends to keep him company. He couldn’t very well pursue her because of Giles and his promise, but not acting on impulse – the absence of action – just made him more and more attracted to her, to the point where he was on the frayed edge of sanity.

Out on the edge you can see—oh, sod it. Just sod it all.

When she came in view, he heard Xander’s mouth noticeably gape open, like it just dropped to the floor in a puddle of drool, and a wayward, baritone pant from him. Even though Spike just preached to Xander the facts of life, he couldn’t very well blame Xander; Buffy was the very vision of Venus right now.

Probably always.

It was almost like she was dressed to kill something, probably multiple Gods at the same time or the rain or the sun or some other indestructible object. Her burgundy top was loose-fitting and extremely elegant, and made her eyes appear more brown than green.

Could just be the lighting. He knew her so well already.

The outfit was a complete walking contradiction, though, because although her top was tasteful, her white denim skirt was “abbreviated,” in Spike’s own choice of wording. It was frayed at the bottom, the style of the times, and the contrasting whiteness of the skirt made her legs look all the more golden, long and shapely, three words Spike knew he mustn’t use to describe them if he wanted to stay platonic like he promised.

But she wasn’t holding herself like a runway model at all. She was kind of slouching her back, kind of looking down, kind of unsure of herself and overly self-conscious, and kind of heading straight for him.

So adorable. Such innocence.

“Spike,” she uttered softly, staring into his eyes.

“Buffy,” he replied coolly. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her beautiful lips which were practically glowing with the help of some great brand of lipstick designed to make all the boys go wild.

There was an awkward pause because neither party knew what to say to the other. Finally someone spoke, and curiously it was the third party and more importantly the third wheel, Xander, who said with just as much enunciation as the first two to mock them, “Xander.”

Buffy gave Xander a quick wave but her true attention never left Spike. “I’m glad you made it.”

Spike tried out his best devilish grin, the one that always worked with the ladies, but it just came out all wrong and wry with the vision in front of him. He tried to cover his embarrassment with a cool, “Told you I wouldn’t miss it, pet.”

He wanted to be a true gentleman and tell her that she looked beautiful all the while getting her seat for her. Not hot, but beautiful, and Spike knew the difference. But he also knew the only way he could keep his promise would be if he said the former, and although being a jerk might safely repel Buffy away, he didn’t want to risk it because she might be into that type.

And so, with all that in mind, he said nothing as she sat in the chair across from him.

But their gazes never left one another, and his admiration for her looks must have become known because her cheeks turned a scrumptious shade of pinkish red. It would have been heavenly to Spike if only he wasn’t chained to the floor with his promise to Giles. With the promise in mind, the blush was like a kidney shot, because it made her practically glow innocence and beauty and only made his inner mind scream all the more for her.

And then he saw it.

Judging it with the same scale of the promise, it was akin to an evisceration of his inners.

As he looked into her eyes, he saw shimmers of the rarest commodity. It was the thing that inspired people, it was something that normally could never be taken away, it was the building blocks of life.

It was hope, and Spike felt he could destroy her blocks.

He just wanted to leave. Coward be damned, he just wanted to drive to some faraway place and then swim to some uninhabited island to be away. Maybe he could fade away back into his own world in that moment, that would certainly solve the dilemma. Put a stake in the heart of anything that might have happened between them.

But he knew that he couldn’t, because he would take some of Buffy’s hope with him.

Finally someone came and broke the silent reverie.

“Oz is gonna be on in a second,” Willow stated to everyone, taking the last seat next to Xander.

Buffy’s eyes peeled off of Spike and wandered to the stage. Wanting to know what was so interesting because the band hadn’t even begun playing, Spike’s eyes darted in the same direction, although he had an arduous time leaving the vacation that was her.

Spike saw Oz slowly nod at Buffy, like he was agreeing to do something.

What could they possibly have planned? he thought.

It didn’t take long for Spike to get his answer. Oz started the song with some wandering electric guitar riffs and then the band came in and then the vocalist belted out some lyrics and then all hell broke loose.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I knew somebody like you.

Couples were starting to dance together. The song was probably the epitome of a slow sensual alternative rock song.

And Buffy told Oz to play it... Spike immediately understood the gesture, his mind deep in pensive lands.

Before he knew it, Buffy was on her feet looking him straight in his eyes. He suddenly realized that she must be able to see inside his head through his eyes, see what he was thinking and, worse, what he was feeling, and so he closed his eyes – the doorways of his mind, body and soul – for what felt like the world’s longest blink.

When he opened them back up, he knew he had been too late. She could see it now. He didn’t close them fast enough, and they had told her far too much, speaking volumes about the fire of his desire for her.

His eyes betrayed him. He knew that she sensed the connection now also.

And that meant everything.

They had something between them now, they had an impulse that they were both following, they had what felt completely right, and that meant that Spike was screwed. She now had the right to ask him, she had the insight and she had the courage.

But not before the ending crescendo, the final assault, the big finish. Whereas before shimmers and glimmers of that precious hope arose in her eyes for spectacular flashes, now Buffy’s eyes were brimming with the rarest commodity for what felt like an eternity. The hope in her eyes was like the sun now, no longer a glimmer or shimmer, but a penetrating ray of ethereal beam.

It was as overwhelming as staring into the sun for a lifetime.

Hope that only he could take away from her.

It felt like winter passed before she finally spoke.

“Spike,” she uttered, tone a beautiful contrast of seduction and shyness. “Do you want to dance?”

Bloody hell, woman, of course I do! More than anything on this soddin’ earth right now!

He parted his lips, he was ready to utter his acceptance, he was about to nod. He wanted to just rise and let her take him, he wanted to act on impulse on what felt so right to him.

Clips of sound suddenly cut him like a knife. The conversation with Giles quickly flashed through his head: the realization, the acceptance, the promise, the word. It was the worst symphony of sound he had ever endured.

And he knew that he couldn’t allow himself this one little dance with her.

“Spike?” Buffy prompted, nervousness clearly distinguishable in her voice.

He had to think of something fast. He had to say something that kept his word and didn’t break her hope.

Spike had to do the impossible. His gaze dropped to the floor.

“I can’t dance,” Spike replied finally, sacrificing Buffy’s hope for his promise to Giles and already feeling it was a bad exchange. He didn’t want to raise his gaze, he couldn’t bear to see the once overwhelming hope now completely crushed like a broken mirror. He didn’t want to scar his hands with the shattered glass and so he continued to focused on his feet.

There was a noticeable pause before she spoke again.

“Oh, c’mon, Spike,” Buffy urged him, not giving up. He was obviously not convincing enough in his convictions, and she must have known it was just an excuse. “It’s easy. You just move your hips around like this.”

The jaw-droppingly innocent display of “dance” she put on, of moving her tight little body around in a circle while thrusting her bodacious hips every which way, made Spike consider suicide as an honorable option.

She looked so good it hurt. And she couldn’t know it either, and that fact hurt even more.

Buffy stopped dancing and addressed him again. She kept a playful tone to keep the mood light. “C’mon, I’ll just dance around you. I want to thank you for saving me in class today. A little dance never hurt anyone.”

Oh God help me. He would have gladly taken the classroom oral report back if he could, only he couldn’t because it already happened and he shouldn’t even be having stupid thoughts like that but his mind was just in such disarray.

And he knew that those events, what she deceivingly called “saving me,” weren’t really the reason behind this connection. It made a part of the whole, but it wasn’t the entire whole.

And I’m down in a hole right now.

She waited for his response with pleading eyes and he knew that the big man upstairs wasn’t gonna help him out.

Spike’s gaze fell to the wooden floor again.

“Buffy...” He started to fidget with his dragon gem, grasping at it with his fingers, but when it started to glow he dropped it like a bad habit. “I just don’t feel like dancing right now...”

He didn’t know how to end it fully until the word blurted out of him. “Sorry.”

He kept his eyes on the pitcher of coke on the table, away from the black hole sun that was Buffy. But he didn’t need to look at her, he could probably be in Nebraska and feel the rejection and insecurity and need and anger flow off of her like a wave of light.

Spike thought the worst was finally over and everyone could continue their regularly scheduled lives.

But then Buffy did something bad. She did the unthinkable.

She sinned where she shouldn’t. She tempted who she mustn’t.

Buffy moved into Xander’s vision like a falling angel and smiled seductively. She grabbed his hand with a certain neediness and dragged him off to the dance floor, not even asking the boy if he wanted to dance. It was like she owned him, like Xander was her property, her pet that she could bring out to play with whenever she liked.

Today, she was using him to kindle jealousy.

Spike slouched like a question mark over the table, his hand grasping his forehead like he had a terrible headache.

She’s gonna make me jealous... and it’s gonna work bloody perfectly.

As bad as it might have been for Spike, it was positively worse for Xander. She was filling the gas tank on his infatuation with her, all the while alleviating her own neediness by taking over his small world for a few minutes. Despicable, maybe, but so was Spike; at least Buffy’s actions showed some semblance of real human emotion.

My actions were just plain stupid.

Spike frowned inwardly. He thought he might have infused enough self-respect and decency and wisdom into Xander that he wouldn’t allow Buffy to use him like this.

Clearly, I was bleedin’ wrong.

Buffy chose a spot in the room so that Spike could see them dancing. Buffy allowed Xander to place his hands casually around her waist, dangerously close to her hips. After a little bit of close quarters dancing like this, she must have decided it wasn’t enough. She playfully slapped Xander’s hands away and then did a slow, sensual, and above all erotic dance around him, grinding into him whenever she pleased. She was absolutely oozing sex, the vapors could almost be seen in the air.

At one point, Buffy perched her tiny little head on Xander’s right shoulder and whispered something into his ear that made the boy shiver, probably a sweet nothing.

Giles will die a slow and painful death Spike rashly thought. He quickly caught himself with that reckless train of thought and tried to focus on something besides Buffy and besides Giles, something neutral and plain. Spike decided on the singer’s vocals.

What a wicked game to play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you

That avenue, like probably all others, only led to thinking about Buffy even more. He tried to concentrate on the weather, but all he saw was thunderstorms in the ten day forecast.

His eyes drifted like magnets back to Buffy.

And what had originally felt like only jealously turned into all sorts of shades and hues and rainbows of attraction. This little thing, this connection with Buffy was clearly becoming something bigger, something that wasn’t up for trade or barter or conversation. Something that couldn’t be quickly dismissed or denied or disbanded.

It wasn’t just Buffy dancing. It wasn’t just the physical. Spike felt he wouldn’t be so frustrated right now if it was just the physical; he’d had the physical several times before, and he didn’t need it everyday, it wasn’t bleedin’ oxygen or anything.

When Spike saw Buffy dance, he saw some innocence that he just tainted, he saw some hope that he just took, but most of all, he saw her heart. And even though they had only known each other for a day, her heart was up for trade, it was up for barter, it was available only for him to take.

Spike pried his eyes away from Buffy and found himself at an equally mesmerizing sight.

Red?

Willow sitting at the table.

She looked just as jealous and hurt and miserable as Spike must have looked.

And Spike knew now, above all else, that Buffy had great power. Not just slaying power; that was on the surface. It was clear to him that Willow obviously adored Xander, that she loved him as more than just a friend.

This whole place is so fucked up, everyone’s in love with the wrong person.

Spike knew Buffy had just tipped the first domino, and the rest were about to fall.

Spike couldn’t take this. He didn’t need this. He didn’t decide to stay here in Sunnydale just so he could endure frustration and temptation that would make even his black heart burst. If his inner dragon responded to intense passion and emotion, why wasn’t he burning down the Bronze right now?

He got up from his chair and marched toward the door with his gaze on the floor.

Someone ran into Spike, whom he immediately sensed was a vampire. It took only a small bitter shove from Spike for the undead to bite the dust on the pointy end of the Bronze’s wooden counter corner. Everyone stopped and stared at the display for a few seconds before dancing again.

And then Spike left.





If you have time, please review. I get all discouraged and think I’m screwing up if you don’t. :(

[A/N: Another update, yay. Sorry, again, about the delay. The muse has seemed to have picked up and left. :( Thanks for the beautiful reviews, which made the little guy come back. :) Here we again see the dragon in Spike, which will hopefully be super neat. The chapter leads to much more fun as the night has just begun.]




Chapter Six: “Staked”



Spike usually had exceptional self-control with all aspects of his life, especially when it came to his own emotions. His mantra, that he needed to control his emotions or else they would control him, always sprung in his mind whenever he let them cloud his judgment.

Now, though...

Spike quickly dusted his sixth vampire, not even bothering with the proper rules of engagement and riskily throwing the stake with perfect aim at the vampire’s heart. It could have been his seventh vampire that night, maybe his eighth; he wasn’t trying to remember or keep track.

I always used to keep track.

Spike shook his head, disturbed by the implications of the thought. He had to remember that she was only a girl and he’d only known her for a day. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight, he thought.

...is it?

If it was, then he needed to call up whoever made those romantic comedy movies and tell them the truth.

Hell, is there such thing as love at first sight? At least not in the movies?

She was throwing him in such disarray, changing him as a person, pervading his every thought. He wasn’t fighting with his normal defensive techniques but very recklessly, he wasn’t keeping track of his kills, and he was certainly allowing his emotions to get the better of him.

Self-tormenting... bloody hell, I need a drink.

He still blamed all of this on Giles. It was his fault that the dance was such a big deal, that he saw the hope in her eyes and that he was obligated to break that hope.

And why I’m being such a melodramatic git right now...

At least that was a welcome thought to him: stupefy these thoughts by blaming it all on Giles. It was entirely Giles’ fault, Spike knew that much. But putting blame on others was just childish, something Spike seldom ever did.

I can only blame myself.

Still, a big part of Spike wanted to march right over to the Watcher’s house and tell him that the soddin’ deal was off, but, again, he would be allowing his emotions to control him. It was pretty late in the night, anyway, and the Watcher would need his full attention to understand Spike’s situation.

Watcher’s whiskey during breakfast... bloody good thing also.

He decided that, for the time being, he would deal with less pressing matters, like where he was going to sleep for the night and if he would ever be able to brush his teeth again. These trivial thoughts were good enough to at least partially push away thoughts of Buffy.

Partially.

But then, amidst waywardly walking through the graveyard, he felt her.

Bloody hell. Not again.

He still sensed the rejection in her, which hurt him more than helped him. He focused on her aura a bit more...

It was trouble. She was in trouble.

And all he knew was that he had to help her.


*~*~*~*~*


Buffy took aimless lunges with her stake at the bloodsucking fiends that surrounded her, hoping that she could at least fend them off until she found an opening to escape.

I’m screwed. One versus eight is definitely not good odds.

She was like a lone lion fending off eight bloodthirsty hyenas simultaneously. The second she devoted time to one, another loomed a little closer and tried to take a bite out of her neck. With this in mind, Buffy was forced to take blind stabs behind her whenever she felt a vampire’s presence.

She tried pushing one into another, but that only worked when the number of fiends was relatively low. It didn’t work against an army of vampires.

And they found me.

Her stake connected with one, turning the vampire into dust, when she heard a tumble of footsteps behind her. Instinctively she reared the stake back into whatever was there, connecting with the vampire’s side and at least putting it down.

When she turned to finish it off, she was more than surprised to find Spike on the ground bleeding.

Ohmygod, I just staked Spike!

He was bleeding, but it didn’t look life or death. Before she had time to process any further bright ideas, Spike started to illuminate brightly, a white light etched around his physique. Almost instantly, the light turned as blinding as the sun, and Buffy had to turn her entire face away from the light while closing her eyes so she didn’t become completely blind.

When she opened them, she saw a very familiar sight.

The same small blue dragon with piercing blue eyes.

And it looked positively feral.

Dragon Spike immediately tail whipped one vampire, bashing the evil fiend to the ground, while simultaneously firebreathing into two more. It was quite a sight, seeing the dragon go to work. Although small in stature, the tail whips, claws, and firebreathing were overpowering for the already terrified armada of vampires.

With one last firebreath, the dragon finished off the last remaining vampire.

Its blue eyes, which looked exactly the same as Spike’s eyes, darted to Buffy.

Buffy took a step back, just in case it decided to attack. “Spike?” she asked wearily, praying he could control his bestial urges.

The dragon responded by pacing toward Buffy, mouth agape.

Buffy got into fighting stance, nerves shot. “Can you hear me, Spike?”

She didn’t want to hurt Spike again, but she also knew that Spike couldn’t exactly control himself as a dragon. At all.

The dragon was right up next to her now. Since the dragon was small and relatively the same height as Buffy, they were face to face.

Okay... think fast, Buffy. Knock it off its feet?

But all fear vanished as the dragon cocked its head at her, eyes examining her closely. It didn’t look ferocious anymore; it looked completely passive, like a lost puppy.

And sort of... cute.

Some strange intangible feeling overtook Buffy and she couldn’t help but touch the dragon on its face, wanting to see what it felt like.

The dragon immediately backed away, looking frustrated and somewhat hurt. It turned its face away from her.

Then it rose on its hind legs and roared as loud as it could, shaking the ground below them.

Another blinding light happened. This time Buffy was well prepared enough to shield the light by putting her hands over her eyes. She still couldn’t see the actual transformation, though. She suspected it was like something from an Animorphs book, although she didn’t really like the idea of categorizing Spike in the children’s section of the bookstore.

When the light finally faded, Spike remained standing.

“Did I just...” Spike examined the front and back of his hands, almost expecting to see claws.

“You transformed into a dragon and saved me... again,” Buffy said, still a little awe struck by the supernatural display.

Spike looked down at Buffy’s stake still in his side. With a stifled grunt of pain, he quickly pulled it out. “I don’t remember a soddin’ thing about being a dragon, must be twenty-four second amnesia.”

Spike eyed her closely. “Although I do remember jumping in to help you when you staked me.”

Buffy cringed, feeling the pain of his pain. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, “I thought you were the vampire behind me and I was in big trouble and I wasn’t thinking and and—”

“It’s alright, Buffy,” he cut off her ramble. “I probably deserved it, seeing as I was such a git tonight.”

Her expression was blank. What just happened? How could Spike speak like that in a situation like this? He just skipped over the disaster of the dance like it wasn’t a big deal. It almost made her feel better, because if it wasn’t a big deal to him than it wasn’t a big deal to her and they could go on with their lives and just forget that debacle.

Only...

Spike looked over his wound. “Just a scratch, anyway. Nothing a band-aid can’t fix.”

Buffy put her hands on her hips, not buying it. The place where she jammed the stake was pouring out with blood. She put a hell of a lot of force behind that stake; normally a blow as hard as that would knock a human clear across the room.

Or area. Or graveyard. Or whatever.

“Really, pet,” Spike tried to assure her with a demonstration. “See?”

He tried to straighten his back and raise his arms in the air. He did it for about a second before he yelped in pain.

Buffy immediately flew to his side, ready to help him stand, but he waved her off.

Spike laughed, more at himself than anything.

How can he laugh when he’s in pain? He’s probably just doing it so I don’t feel completely awful...

“Know where I can find a bandage?” he said with a wry grin.

“I have a first aid kit at my house...” Buffy trailed at the wild idea of bringing Spike home. “Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

Spike shook his head. “No.”

“Then it’s settled. My house is right across the graveyard. Let’s go.”

“Little bossy today, are we, pet?” Spike cocked his head, looking like he was mulling over the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Buffy laughed a little. “Impose? I shish-kabobed you with a wooden stake. The least I can do is bandage you up and give you a place to stay for the night.”

Spike sheepishly scratched his head. “Well, I guess I could. What about your mum?”

“Oh, she’s fine with stuff like that as long as I’ve done my homework.” A pause. “She let’s Willow stay over all the time.”

It only took a second for Buffy to cringe at the bad example. “Not that you and Willow are exactly the same... I mean... you’re a he and she’s a... a she...”

She became a complete mess of the English language when she was around him.

Buffy shook her thoughts back in place. “I’m sure she won’t mind. You’re hurt. Let’s just go.”

Spike shrugged. “Alright. Lead the way, nurse.”

And with that, they started the silent walk home.





Penny for your thoughts?

[A/N: Oh my, you all don’t even know how much your reviews saved me. I was completely ready to give up writing this, I didn’t even want to look at the site, when presto, I see all your wonderful reviews and I’m instantly cured, my muse back to screaming and fingers typing. This chapter is most of the night in Buffy’s bedroom. I hope you like it; although it doesn’t go to extreme Spuffy heaven, I’m happy with it. Title from the awesome Led Zeppelin song.]




Chapter Seven: “In the Evening”



The Summers’ residence wasn’t exactly a fortress; it didn’t have a gigantic drawbridge or shiny gun turrets or anything like that. It did, however, have a front door. And like most doors – at least most front doors – it required a key to be opened. And although Buffy had a key in her possession and this should be walk in the park material, she had a beast of a time trying to get them out.

Buffy fumbled with her keys. She lost the battle and they fell to the porch.

God, I’m such a klutz around him.

Luckily, Spike was already on the case and politely picked them up for her, not saying a word of sarcasm along the way. Her cheeks flamed red nevertheless.

She quickly entered her home and was already on the second step of the stairs when she noticed he hadn’t come in.

Buffy turned around. “What’s wrong?”

Spike looked at the invisible barrier of the door. “I’m not one to enter people’s homes without permission; not my style.”

Buffy would have laughed if he wasn’t serious. “I don’t know whether that’s more gentleman or vampire, but you can come in.”

He grinned and joined Buffy at the stairs, closing the door with a very loud creak.

“Buffy?” Someone called for her from another room, hearing the sound of the door.

Buffy looked frantically at Spike. “That’s mom. Hide!”

“Hide from your mum?” He almost laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

Buffy politely nudged him up the stairs. “She doesn’t allow any boys over.”

Well, besides Xander, but we all know that nothing would ever happen...

Spike looked mad at first but quickly shrugged it off. With the silence and swiftness of a deer, he went up the stairs out of sight.

Joyce stood at the main entry, barely missing Spike’s great escape. “Buffy? Who were you talking to?”

Oh shit...

“Oh, uh...” Buffy fidgeted with her hands. Think think think. “Just talking to myself. You know me... crazy old Buffy.”

Joyce glanced at her watch. “And you’re home past curfew,” she said in a stern voice. “It’s eleven fifteen.”

Looks like she bought the talking to self thing. Dunno whether I should be relieved or mad.

“Sorry, mom,” Buffy muttered somewhat routinely. “Won’t happen again.”

“I certainly hope it won’t.” It was more of a threat than a statement.

A pause occurred before Joyce transformed back to normal nice mom.

“I put the fish on the counter in a plastic bag; I want you to bury it tonight.”

Buffy nodded. “Sure, mom.” Her goldfish had recently passed away and she really needed to give it a proper funeral before it became unrecognizable.

Joyce smiled at her daughter. “I’m going to go to sleep. Long day at the gallery.”

Her mother started with the stairs.

Oh god. What if she sees Spike?

Buffy did the only thing she could. She blocked her mother’s dangerous path with an outstretched arm.

“Where are you going?” Buffy asked inquisitively, more to buy a little time to think than anything.

“To my bedroom to go to sleep.” Was there a hint of laughter in her voice?

Buffy facepalmed. “Oh, you mean you are going upstairs to your bedroom, which is the far door down the hall and not my room which is the close one.” She said the words in an unusually high voice. To warn Spike, of course.

Joyce put her hands on her waist. “Is something up, Buffy?”

Buffy looked down. “Something up? What do you mean? Nothing’s up. Not one thing is up right now...”

“You’ve just been acting a bit...” Joyce’s brow furrowed. “...strange.”

Buffy made her best fake laugh. “No stranger than usual, I guess.”

“Well, goodnight.” Joyce started climbing the stairs again, the arm barrier gone.

“Yeah, goodnight.”


*~*~*~*~*


Spike thought her room smelled like heaven. He hadn’t been there – to heaven anyway – but if he had, he was sure it would smell like this.

This room is bleedin’ adorable. Look up the word in the dictionary... Buffy’s picture is there as the example next to the definition.

Little stuffed animals lined up at the head of the bed. Boy band posters plastered all over the walls. An armada of Disney videotapes that would put most rental stores and probably Walt’s vault to shame.

Does Buffy have a little sis or something?

But he knew the answer to that. This had to be Buffy’s room, it was the one she not-so-aptly pointed out to him. The room wasn’t completely innocent, anyway; it was more of a work in progress. The clothes scattered about the room were the tell-tale sign: assorted outfits that only girls in their prime would dare to try on, let alone purchase and actually wear.

No parkas here.

Spike’s eyes caught a picture frame of Buffy and her family on her dresser. He grabbed the picture with his hands, examining it closer. She was with her mom and dad in the picture; they all looked genuinely happy. Buffy was younger, still nubile, and smiling.

Probably a rarity now...

“Taking pictures of me now? You know that might be considered stalkerish in some states.”

Oh sod...

Spike quickly placed the picture frame back in its proper place, expertly remembering exactly where it stood, but stopped when Buffy started to giggle.

Oh? Two can play it that way...

“Guess I’m guilty, you’ll have to lock me up,” he replied coolly, staring back at her with a wicked, confident grin. His response was more than adequate enough to throw Buffy off balance, but in the end he was thrown off, too, because he got another one of those empyreal blushes.

Spike looked down at his wound, effectively changing the subject. “So you gonna patch me up, doc?”

Buffy streamlined to a very large chest on the ground next to her bed.

“Your mum?” he prompted.

Buffy opened the chest with a key. “She has earplugs when she sleeps. I could scream right now and she wouldn’t hear a thing.”

Oh? Spike obviously had very different, more sensual types of screams on his mind than the innocent Buffy. He let the very respondable comment slide, though, concentrating on other matters.

“No, y’know what I—”

“You can meet her some other time, now’s not exactly the right moment.” Buffy popped the chest open. “We couldn’t explain the wound and she wouldn’t be very happy if she knew you were here... in my room.”

Buffy placed the first aid kit on her bed.

“Sit down,” she said.

Spike sat on the desk chair ten feet away from Buffy.

Buffy giggled. “No, silly, over here.” She patted on the bed.

Kill me now... there’s a thin line between heaven and hell...

He sat down on the bed and peaked into Buffy’s locked supply kit.

“Looks like you got all the stuff a sixteen-year-old girl could ever need. Stakes, holy water, oversized cross, first aid kit...” He laughed a little. “Your mum doesn’t know about you being the Slayer, huh?”

Buffy opened the first aid kit with a click. “No, she doesn’t.”

“It would be a lot easier on you if you told her...” He sounded wishful.

Buffy took some things out of the first aid kit. “I told her one time and it ended with dad leaving, me going to a mental institution, and us moving here. Now she lives in denial of it all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She thought about her tangent for a second, eyes widening. “I so totally didn’t want that to sound malicious diatribe like back there.”

An awkward pause occurred before Buffy continued playing nurse.

She took a mouthful of air before she started, needing the oxygen to get her a little high. “I need you to take off your shirt so I can—”

“Sure, pet.” Spike rose to his feet and tossed his black duster on a chair.

He started with his shirt when Buffy turned her blushing gaze away from him, obviously a little... startled by the sight. And Spike wasn’t born yesterday, he got the subtle gesture quite clearly. Too clearly, in fact.

“Hey, I’m not that ugly...”

Buffy was too quick to refute his words. Her gaze flew back to Spike and she had that deer in the headlights look to her when she saw him shirtless. She minced her words. “It’s not... it’s not that I think you are...”

She trailed when he made a devilish grin, obviously happy that he caught her in his trap. His very sexy and desirable trap.

“Oh, you’re evil,” she said playfully.

He tossed the shirt on top of the black duster. “Only in the evening, pet.”

Spike sat back down on the bed and Buffy started to clean the wound. She tried her best not to ogle at his chest, only focusing on his wound which was suspiciously located obliquely to Spike’s abs, which were probably just as much of a danger zone as his chest or his arms or his...

Really, any way you put it, she was screwed.

Buffy opened the cap to the rubbing alcohol, trying to focus on less exciting things. “This might hurt a little.”

She glazed over the wounded area, disinfecting it entirely. Spike didn’t even flinch. Alcohol in the wound and he was too preoccupied with the cute little sight of Nurse Summers.

Hurts so good maybe...

Buffy was expertly placing some white bandages on the wound when her pinky finger barely scraped his side. Now, they’d never touched before, at least not skin to skin, so it was quite the shock, quite literally the shock, when they connected for the first time. Pure electricity, in fact. Like touching the bad power lines, the ones that birds didn’t even perch on.

So, of course, the response to the innocent touch was simple: he jumped up and she quickly pulled her hands away.

His voice was jittery as he returned to a seated position. “S’nothing. Just hurt a little bit.”

Even when I lie I tell the truth.

It all finished rather uneventfully, with Buffy finishing with some tape and Spike putting his clothes back on. Well, as uneventful as Spike putting back on his clothes could be to her. And with prior knowledge in mind, he thought “uneventful” might have been a very bad choice of wording on his part.

Spike hopped back on the bed, sitting next to Buffy. His eyes wandered to Buffy’s bookshelves, which were full of “young adult” books and Disney movies. “So, you wanna watch The Lion King before we go to sleep?”

Her gaze went to her feet. “You must think I’m like five years old by my room...”

“Never said that, pet.”

She raises her eyes, the ones that were full of hope.

“I think that the worst thing that can happen to a woman is if she’s thought of as a girl.” He said these words with such beautiful sincerity; she knew he meant them with every fiber of his being.

They stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime. Spike didn’t say it exactly; he was actually very roundabout and cagey in his demeanor of complimenting her. But the implications were there: he thought of her as a woman. And if that didn’t make a girl feel good, nothing did.

And then in an instant they weren’t staring at each other’s eyes anymore. Oh no, both Buffy and Spike graduated with highest honors from that school of thought. Now they were onto bigger and better things: they were looking suggestively at each other’s lips, hers glossy and plump, his pale and parted.

She edged a half inch closer to him on the bed. Even though her palms were facing down on the sheets of the bed, they were still sweaty and hot, hands already feeling the passion that awaited.

She leaned in and closed her eyes, just as he did, ready for whatever heaven would happen next...

Spike suddenly jumped off the bed and onto his feet, effectively ruining the moment and keeping his now notorious promise. Buffy fell over to where Spike should have been, to where he should have caught her with his lips. She regained her bearings and glanced up at him.

Spike sheepishly scratched his head. “So, what’s this I hear about burying a goldfish?”





I have to be your least favorite person in the world right now. I’m so sorry. :( I hope you liked the chapter, at least everything before the ending. But you gotta realize, I hadta do it, it’s in the nature of things. Please review if you have time. Giddiness from reviews = sooner updates = sooner to true Spuffyness.

(Penny, all your thoughts are belonging to us.:)