Chapter One
“Interview with a Vampire Slayer”


“This is Rupert Giles. It is the first of April-“

“Oooh, so formal! Don’t I feel special?” The watcher shot his slayer a look of warning and she rolled her eyes. “Sorry.”

With a sigh, Giles rewound his recorder and started over. By the time he was done reciting facts that Buffy was positive nobody would ever care to know about, she was having doubts. Did she really want people to know about this whole ordeal? Was this really anyone’s business? The answer was, no… and yes. No, she didn’t want people to know about her current state; but if she had had access to this kind of information when she had first started slaying, there would have been certain things that would have been easier to deal with.

Giles slid a piece of paper in front of Buffy with key points for her to mention when she started talking. She worried over a couple of the questions for a second, but he offered her a smile and it eased a bit of her anxiety. Surely, this couldn’t be easy on him either. What happened wasn’t any person’s fault as far as Buffy was concerned, but Giles blamed himself for not having prepared her. He had apologized for his negligence on more than one occasion, but Buffy always corrected him. There was no negligence, it had been a surprise attack and a lucky shot; nothing more.

Joyce quietly tip-toed around the table, handing out drinks. A tea for Giles and a bottle of water for Faith. Buffy’s mother had taken the news extremely well. In her eyes, Buffy was Buffy - her daughter, not the slayer or anything else, just her teenage daughter whom she loved. Welcoming Faith into her home had been just one more adjustment she had made to embrace Buffy’s calling. Giles had suggested that Faith live with them as an extra security measure, keeping everyone who was involved that bit safer. Joyce had agreed as she was willing to do anything to keep Buffy safe.

Even though Joyce had made many changes in what seemed to be an effortless manner, Buffy could still tell that the events had taken their toll on her mother. The slow loss of hope that Joyce experienced made Buffy feel like a burden. At night she could hear Joyce’s prayers and the tears that followed soon after. Everyone had hoped that the situation would right itself, but after a year and a half, things were looking bleak. It hadn’t taken long for Buffy to realize that she couldn’t continue living with her mother, pretending that everything was normal. She had begun to act as if her current condition was going to be permanent and decided to move out.

Giles cleared his throat and signaled for Buffy to introduce herself. She opened her mouth several times to start her monologue, but she quickly found that her mind was drawing a blank. She knew what had happened, but she couldn’t manage to get the words out. Even after all this time and after countless explanations she just couldn’t find a painless way to say it.

“I think that this might go a bit more smoothly if everyone who is not needed would kindly leave the room.” Giles offered helpfully.

To be honest, Buffy admittedly felt like a freak show. She knew Willow and Xander were there in an attempt to support her, but the awkwardness that surrounded them rubbed Buffy the wrong way. Her best friends never knew what to say to her and she wasn’t quite sure that she managed to hide her jealousy of them at all. How easy it must be to wander around clueless about the “other” side of life. They knew about the evils of the world, but it wasn’t their job to fight it. They weren’t the chosen ones who had to go around and rid the place of dangers. Potential apocalypses didn’t rest on their shoulders. Paranormal adventures were something they could choose to participate in, not something that was shoved at them. For those reasons, she was jealous.

Buffy did enjoy Oz’s company. Although he never talked much, there were no silences that she felt obligated to fill in. They had an understanding. He knew what it was like to have something darker lurking within you and she was learning that it was something that wasn’t easy to control.

Without a word, the three of them turned to leave. Giles fixed his gaze on Faith who was currently sitting at the table next to Buffy.

“Oh no,” she said, leaning back, “I’m sticking around for this. It’s my duty and all.”

Even Joyce cleared out of the room - taking a mug of cocoa out the back door - which left the three of them alone.

It still took a minute to find the perfect way to phrase things, but Buffy was satisfied with the words she managed to find.

“I’m Buffy Summers and I’m the Vampire Slayer.” Buffy heard Faith let out a quiet snort of amusement and she grinned. Giles, on the other hand, was not a fan of her play on words. Reluctantly, she added, “As in the slayer that is a vampire.”

There it was out. She had said what needed to be said. What happened to ‘The truth shall set you free’? she wondered. She had told the truth, but she didn’t feel any better about it.

“Why don’t you tell us about your death?” Giles asked.

“Which one?” Buffy replied, not skipping a beat.

Again, Faith let out a snicker. Buffy was happy that Faith had come around when she had; she knew that had Faith been here before she had a bit of demon in her, they wouldn’t have gotten along so well. Faith was Buffy’s opposite - loud and impulsive, with a true love for slaying. Yes, she was almost certain that Faith would have been quite the problem during her good girl days.

“The death that caused your condition,” he clarified. Buffy shuddered as she remembered that night and the helplessness that went with it, but, with the familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach, she started filling Giles in on the events leading up to it.

Chapter Two
“Sickness”

“Does she know?” Joyce asked, looking up at the stars from her seat on her back porch.

“That I’m here? Probably. She takes pride in letting me know that I’m a pain in her arse just from being near.” Spike smiled as he took a sip of the hot cocoa in his mug.

“I meant, does she know that you love her?”

“Do I? I mean, I know that our demons play well together, but what do I do when that goes away? I try not to think about these things, live in the moment and all of that rot, but I can’t help it. If this suddenly went away and she went back to being Buffy, where would that that leave me? Other than staked by someone I couldn’t bring myself to kill. The lot of you wouldn’t be losing a sodding thing, but I would. I can’t do that after losing Dru.”

Joyce couldn’t help but feel for him. It was plain as day that he loved her daughter. He loved her and there was no hiding it from anyone, other than himself and Buffy. Joyce always knew that wherever Buffy went, Spike wasn’t far behind. Since Buffy had been turned into a vampire, Spike had taken it upon himself to watch over her.

“I wouldn’t worry, Spike. She may have grown a pair of fangs and a yearning for blood and violence, but she is still Buffy. She is still the 18 year old girl that I raised, that is what you need to remember. I’m sure you know how to woo the demon in her, but you also need to appeal to the female aspect of her. You have an advantage, don’t you? Surely, you can remember something from your human days and all of the women you had.”

The days of his human life were never far from his thoughts. William, the good for nothing ponce, didn’t know the first thing about a woman. Poetry? Those lines of rhetoric and rhyme riddled his thoughts more and more these days. He often caught himself about to spout off some wretched lines when he was around Buffy… or in her, as was often the case. Ashamed of thinking such thoughts in front of Joyce, Spike turned his head and lit up a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you.” She smiled, reaching off to the side. She handed him a cheap black ashtray. “Use it from now on. I don’t want to see any more discarded cancer sticks around my trees and flowers. Or at least be thoughtful and send them over to Mrs. Aiello’s house,” Joyce pointed off to the right, “I can’t stand the stench of those awful orange flowers of hers and they attract more bees than I ever care to see so close to my house.”

Spike could hear Buffy talking inside about the day she died. That glorious day that had given him a chance in hell to be with her.

“Have you told her yet?” Startled and wide-eyed, Joyce looked at him, raising a quizzical brow. “Been around long enough to know what sickness smells like.”

“No.” She admitted. “I’m trying some medication for now. If it doesn’t work then I will need something stronger and I will tell her. I know she’s grown up, but she’s still my baby. I don’t want her to have to deal with this.”

Summers women were so similar. When Buffy had changed, she hadn’t told her mother; she had waited until she couldn’t hide anymore. Spike stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray and saw Joyce shiver. “Why don’t you head inside? Buffy seems to have gotten a momentum going now.” She nodded and patted Spike on the shoulder.

“Come on,” she encouraged. He thought better of it for a moment, but if she wanted him to follow her, he couldn’t resist a lady’s request. Three sets of eyes watched him when he entered the house and placed the empty mug in the sink.

“While you’re here, Spike, why don’t you help Buffy fill in some of the details of that night.” For a Watcher, Spike found Giles to be quite clueless about Buffy’s body language. It was clear she didn’t want to linger on she subject of her death, yet the man kept prodding her.

For some people death is a blessing. It is an end to pain, suffering, loneliness, and responsibilities. Spike had embraced his; he liked William as far away as possible. Buffy, however, was somewhere in the middle. She had mentioned that she was ecstatic that she no longer had to feel guilty when she didn’t rush off to save every poor sap who got caught up with a demon. She also acknowledged that she was terrified that it would bite her on the ass when or if things ever went back to normal. She didn’t know if her conscience could handle it.

Spike held out his hand expectantly towards the man who sighed, handing over a couple of bills. He looked at Buffy and started, “Right then, she was in the midst of yet another of my attempts on her life…”

***

"You know, a little help wouldn't kill you!" Buffy yelled out to Spike who was currently sitting on top of a nearby gravestone.

"Now why would I want to do that?" Spike was more than content to watch his enemy fend off a group of fledglings. The buggers were a result of yet another plot to kill the slayer. This particular plot was planned by a dying teen by the name of Mercedes? No, Honda? Nope. Ford. Oh yes, the ailing Ford. What was it about this plan that was so bad? A dingy club full of willing vampire wannabes and, the cherry on top, the slayer. The only person that was actually supposed to be turned was Ford, but Spike's lackeys thought to create an army. All but Ford had risen last night and Drusilla had busied herself making her "children" feel at home. The over-abundance of newly turned vampires marching the hallways of his factory home had made Spike grouchy. What was an annoyed Master Vampire to do? Why, send them on a suicide mission, of course! He assured them that the young slayer couldn't possibly take on a handful of them at once, much less waves of them.

Buffy was currently working on the second wave out of three and in approximately three minutes the next round of lemmings would be slinking into the graveyard. Spike knew that she could take them, there was never a doubt about it. He also knew that a slayer's stamina wasn't infinite. Sure, she would be tired by the end, but she wouldn't be dead. No, Spike would never let a lowly fledgling take out what would be his third slain slayer. Three! The thought of yet another notch on his slayer belt sent a shiver up his spine. He could taste the heady slayer blood now. Spike was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't see her finish off the last of the wave and head straight for him. It wasn't until he got a fist to the nose that he was brought out of his tasty dreams. "Oi! Watch the nose!"

"What the hell, Spike? You want me dead? Do it yourself." She was standing over him now with a look that could kill... if it were a sharpened piece of wood, that is.

"Oh, please Slayer. Give the Big Bad some credit. They're not going to kill you, we both know it. Then again..." Spike broke off his sentence and rolled his eyes upwards looking towards the entrance to the cemetery. Buffy's eyes followed his lead and she was barely able to get her stake into position as a vampire came barreling toward her. The force of the tackle knocked her off balance and she fell onto Spike who was still lying beneath her.

"Why haven't you tried to kill me yet?" Buffy complained as she pointed her stake upwards to kill another vamp. Spike could tell she was running out of energy when she didn't immediately jump off his lap.

"When I kill you, I want it to be an event, Slayer. Something more memorable than my having to waste time killing off the newly risen. This here is just foreplay, pet." Her gaze shot down at him and her lip curled with distaste. "Not literally, of course." He added, matter-of-factly.

He had to admit that fighting Buffy was like foreplay. There wasn’t much that was better than a true fight with a formidable opponent such as her. She was feisty and what she lacked in formal training, she more than made up for with natural talent. He'd fought people with better training and more experience than she had, but she was the worthy adversary he had been waiting for. Spike's body reacted to the thought of his fights with Buffy. He truly could get off on their fighting.

The look of disgust and the red tint of embarrassment on her cheeks let him know that she had felt his reaction and Spike let out a laugh. "What? It's natural isn't it?"

"You're such a- Ow! Holy mother of-!" The slayer let out a hiss as an arrow pierced through her right shoulder from behind. The arrow was currently lodged inside of her as she spun around to see her attacker. There was a single demon, who looked almost slimy, standing by a mausoleum with a crossbow.

"Let me guess, one of yours?" She grumped at Spike and gave him a good hard stomp to the gut as she swayed on her two feet.

"Not mine. If it were, I guarantee you they would have completely missed." Spike's minions were not known for their smarts or their talents, unless that talent was failing... miserably. The one thing they did have was determination and, more often than not, that trait sent them to an early grave, again.

Buffy took off running after the demon and Spike followed after her, breathing in the intoxicating smell of her blood as it dripped out of her wound.

Buffy was not feeling well. She never expected that getting shot with anything would feel pleasant, but she was scared because after the initial pain of it slicing through her skin, she didn't feel it at all. There may not have been any pain but every other aspect of her was going wonky. Her blood felt like ice running through her veins and she was starting to feel light headed.

Very quickly, she began to mentally kick herself for insisting on patrolling alone tonight. Giles had come along last night to lend a hand because he had thought that all of the turned teenagers from the club would rise. When none of them ever showed, they feared that Spike and his crew had taken all of them back to their hide-out to keep them safe. Buffy had known that that wasn't true for Ford. They had watched as his family buried him and she had stood guard at his grave ever since. Tonight was the last possible night that Ford could rise. If he didn't then something had gone wrong. They rationalized that the supernatural healing would take extra time due to the tumor in his brain, but nobody rose from the grave as a vampire past five days.

Buffy had felt that she needed to do this alone. She knew that she had to slay him if he rose, that wasn't an issue. However, just turning an old friend to dust didn't sit well with her. She felt that it might be easier to do alone, without someone watching over her shoulder. When Ford did finally rise, Buffy had imagined that it would be more eventful. She felt that it should have been more meaningful, but it wasn't. There was no banter, she couldn't think of anything to say. Her jaw had tightened and she had plunged the stake into his heart before he could say a word. She was not ready for this.

They were all right; it wasn't something she could do alone. The moment she had seen him, the young girl in her had closed her eyes tight and had wished that somebody was there to lie to her and tell her that everything gets easier. Even Angel had volunteered to come along, but when she had nixed that idea, he had found business that he had to do out of town. He had mentioned something about tracking down a demon that could be coming after her. Buffy suspected that it had already found her.

She became winded after following the demon down the block. Her fingers, toes, and lips were now cold to the touch and everything kept spinning long after she stopped moving. Spike wasn't far behind her and she tried to gather the energy to make a run for Giles' place. Many nights, she lay awake buzzing with energy that was just screaming to be let out, and now that she needed it, there was none to be found. With her hands on her knees she tried to catch her breath.

"Come on, Slayer. Don't make this that easy on me."

She raised heavy-lidded eyes to the blonde vampire and tried to come back with a witty remark but all that came out was a whimper.

"What? Really? Goldilocks has gone and run all out of porridge?" A smirk took over his face and he grabbed her by the hair and jerked her to a standing position. He looked her in the eyes then took a second to regard the arrowhead that was impossibly close to his own skin. Buffy couldn’t help but watch as he slid his free hand into the sleeve of his duster then reached up and snapped off the tip that was protruding through the front of her shoulder. If she could have kept any air in her lungs, she was sure that a scream would have pierced the quiet that surrounded them.

Spike's blue eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. He was sniffing her! Buffy's mind raced with the thought of all of the vile things he could do to her and she couldn't lift a finger to stop it. Rape, kill, torture. These were all things he boasted about whenever they crossed paths; wouldn't he take more pride in doing them to a slayer? Is this how she would be remembered? As an anecdote to the next slayer he killed?

Buffy knew she was dying, it was just a matter of how. Was it going to be at the hand of her nemesis or some lucky demon that got in one good shot? She waited for her life to flash before her eyes, but it never came. She didn't have any thoughts of what could have been with Angel or the good times she would miss out on with Willow and Xander. None of this came to her and she wasn't sure if she was angry or relieved. Should she be mad that she didn't get to reflect on her past? She was the freaking slayer! Wasn't that enough to be deserving of a montage of her life? Apparently not. All she had was the sound of a frustrated sigh from Spike and the look of bloodlust in his eyes as he openly ogled the expanse of her neck that he held open to his view.

Spike could smell death pouring out of the slayer and he was at a loss. His third slayer, his trophy, was wasting away right in front of his eyes and he actually felt a tinge of sympathy. She was a fighter, and a damn good one at that. She was supposed to put up a fight before he relished in the taste of her blood. Instead, here he was holding her up as she let out her last breath, with one hand tangled in her hair to keep her head to the side as he decided whether he should bite her or not. If he had been the one to fight her into exhaustion, he would have sunk his fangs into her creamy neck. Sure, Spike was irrational but he was not stupid. There was no way that a simple arrow could have killed her like this. When it occurred to him that the arrow was poisoned he broke it off and cast it aside.

Wasn't this a treat? A dead slayer in his arms, ready for the bite. It should have been a treat, but it was laced with something bad. There wasn't a chance that Spike was going to take a bite of this forbidden fruit without making sure that whatever toxin that was now in her blood wasn't going to affect him. Mind made up, he ran two fingers over her face to close her eyelids, slung the petite, dead fighter over his shoulder and made his way home.

***

“So, she was truly dead?” Giles asked.

“Yes, Watcher. Truly dead, no pulse or anything of the sort.” Spike was leaning against the counter watching Buffy. Her eyes were focused on Giles, shooting daggers at him. Buffy could feel her demon getting angry and she was grinding her teeth together trying to keep the change at bay. Faith brought her hand up to rest on the table, giving her an open view of the stake.

“And the time between her death and when she rose, it was relatively short?”

Relatively short? Buffy wanted to scream. There were nearly two hours of her life and her unlife combined where she had ceased to exist. There had been nothing after death until she had woken up to a fledgling getting ready to snack on her throat.

Spike must have sensed her power rolling off of her in waves because he groaned.

“You know, Rupert, nothing about her as a vampire is normal so it isn’t surprising that it didn’t take as long. I think we’re done for tonight. Since you seem to be so fascinated, I’ll tell you all about her time being dead another night; for a price, of course.”

Buffy was grateful that Spike was calling it quits. She still had a hard time knowing when she was overreacting. Her demon often reared its ugly head over small comments that at one time she would have just shrugged off. Now those comments gave her the urge to tear out a person’s throat if they so much as coughed in her direction or ate a bite of her Special K cereal.

Giles began clearing the table of the papers, books and his recorder. Joyce assured Faith that she could go on upstairs and get some rest, that Buffy would be fine. Faith shot a look at Giles and he nodded his head in agreement. Buffy felt a twinge of envy seep into her. It had been months since she had been able to walk up those stairs and crawl into her own bed. She tried to make things work while living here, but her mother’s cries at night and sleeping down the hall from a Slayer that could waltz in and plunge a stake into her heart just wasn’t natural.

While Buffy managed to spend a good chunk of her time with her mother, she was sharing Angel’s old apartment with Spike. She called him her ‘Vampire Watcher’; Spike said it was called a ‘Sire’. Buffy insisted that she did not have those particular kind of Daddy issues. It would make some of the things they did very wrong.

Spike thanked her mother for the hot chocolate and held the back door open for Buffy. She followed close behind him as he hopped the fence into the neighbor’s yard.

“What are you doing?” Buffy laughed as he stomped through the garden of orange flowers.

“Doing your mum a favor.” Buffy smiled at Spike being sweet in his own kind of way and joined him in obliterating the offensive plants. When a growl came from across the yard she looked over and growled back. The dog was deathly quiet and satisfaction bubbled through her. Her satisfaction was short-lived as she was swept up over Spike’s shoulder and she knew that she was in for a whole different kind of satisfaction.

“You know what happens when you let your demon out.” Spike’s voice was lower and Buffy felt excited.

Satisfaction, indeed.

Chapter Three
“Fever”

“Where’s Buffy?” Spike finished putting his new wad of cash away in his duster pocket before answering the Watcher.

“She decided to change last minute. She’ll be a bit.” Lies. Buffy had changed alright, just not her clothes. On the trek over they had got stopped by a demon that had poked fun at the slayer turned vampire. Not smart. Her anger had caused her to vamp out while slamming the creature into the ground. She claimed that she couldn’t be seen by her friends and family with ‘a case of the bumpies.’ Spike had tried making it obvious to the girl that if she didn’t learn to accept her demon and live with it, she was never going to be able to control it.

“Since I’m paying you for this interview, here is a list of topics that I would like for you to touch on if possible.” Question after question on the print out had the word ‘death.’

“Word of advice, Rupert, you may want to avoid the big ‘D’ word with Buffy if you want her to remain cooperative.”

“B getting touchy in her unlife?” Faith asked, making her way to the dining room table to place herself between them. Spike liked her. Sassy and curvy with a brilliant motto, “Want, take, have.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. I just assumed she’d learned to live with it by now. In that case, I’d like to get started with you then, before Buffy arrives.” The man set about readying everything on the table.

Spike took this time to try and feel if Buffy was nearing them yet. When he was satisfied that she wasn’t, he motioned for Giles to start.

The date was announced and the questions began.

“When the arrow’s poison took effect, Buffy could have, without a doubt, been declared dead. Correct?”

“Right.”

“Did you stop to check for a pulse?”

Spike quirked a brow at Rupert and bit the inside of his cheek. “No need. I would have heard the tick tock of her heart, would have smelled life and not death.”

“How did you handle her death?”

“I was bloody cross that-“

“No, I meant…” Rupert took off his glasses and wiped them with a cloth. “Dear Lord, I meant did you do anything to her body?”

Faith and Spike’s eyes widened at the same time.

“Giles, you dog!” Faith exclaimed.

His cheeks now flame red, the watcher shook his head. “Anything that could have caused her condition.”

“You know as well as I, that had Buffy honestly thought for even a second that I was behind this, I would have been dust.”

Faith remained relaxed in her seat and plucked a piece of invisible fuzz off of her tank top. “To be fair, gorgeous, you’ve said that vampires typically feel loyalty to their sires, even if it isn’t returned.” Spike glowered at her. She may not have said Dru’s name, but it was implied.

“I may be the closest thing she has got to a sire, but I didn’t turn her. She shouldn’t feel any loyalty to me.” In fact, on more than one occasion she told him that she didn’t feel anything towards him, but Spike kept that to himself.

“I know. Slayer can’t even be a normal vampire, right?” Nobody had heard Buffy enter the house, nor had they seen her standing in the doorway. “I’ve gone from being the freak ‘Chosen One’, to the lone sire-less vampire.”

Spike was almost certain she was upset that they were talking about her when she wasn’t present, but she couldn’t hide the mirth in her eyes. He was convinced there wasn’t anything in the world that could compare to how Buffy looked when she was happy. She had let her hair down from the tight ponytail it was in when they left and it was now resting on her shoulders in slight waves.

“That was a quick change, love.” Spike noted.

He had only been alone here for about ten minutes and he was sure he’d have longer than that since her transition from demon to human visage could take upwards of fifteen on a good day. “Must say, I don’t notice much of a difference in your outfit though.” Her eyes narrowed at him but she sunk into the chair next to Spike anyway.

“I can’t see it in the mirror but I think this one looks better.”

“Both are equally attractive. I just don’t see you wearing the other one all that often.”

As the bickering carried on, it became obvious to Faith that they were not talking about clothes. She glanced over at Giles who had taken to cleaning his glasses again and who then retreated to the kitchen.

Alone with the two vampires she didn’t say anything. Instead she got comfortable and enjoyed the show. She would never admit it, but she was jealous. To some people, Buffy could do no wrong. She managed to die twice, but her watcher still regarded her as the best around. She occasionally bit people and they called it an identity crisis. Faith’s favorite, however, was that she killed a slayer. A no-nonsense slayer that was called here to the Sunnydale hellmouth and Buffy had killed her. Yet, they only sat around and said they couldn’t imagine the anguish she must go through when she thinks of it. The anguish she’ll have when her soul gets restored rather. Then, on top of that, she has Spike. Treats him like dirt when she gets too close, but he’s hers anyway. Faith knew better than to question it, so she kept quiet.

“As interesting as Buffy’s wardrobe may be, could we please get back to the issue at hand? May I remind you, this interview is not for my pleasure, nor is it solely for the purpose of informing future slayers, but it is important as it may lead to the discovery of how to cure you.” Giles’ tired voice stopped Buffy from continuing the argument and she settled back in her chair letting her leg brush against Spike’s.

“Onward then, yeah?”

“Yes, onward.”

***


Slayer blood. He was sure they all could smell it. Every last one of the dolts had made their way past the door at least once since he’d locked himself in here with the dead slayer.

Even when she was dead, Spike expected a smart remark from her. He could almost hear her laughing at him, ‘What’s the matter Spike? Cat got your fangs?” He took a moment from his pacing to kick the bed he had placed her on. He had meant to bring her to the room he shared with Dru, but she was cuddled up on the bed next to some demon she had more than likely kept ‘company’ until early on in the day. The cheap bed frame squeaked and slid at an angle away from him. The movement jostled the slayer’s head to the side and revealed her creamy neck. She had faint bite marks on one side. He had heard about The Master drinking from her neck, then drowning her. Spike sneered at the insult and found himself moving towards her, hand outstretched to run his finger over the marks.

What was with these nitwits and their lousy treatment of a Slayer? They deserved to be fought until the bitter end, given a death worthy of a fighter; not this getting shot with an arrow and drowning rubbish.

A slight tap on the door followed by, “Spike?” sent him reeling across the room. What did he care about her less than heroic death? Point was he was in possession of her dead body and the slayer blood that went with it. Now to find out if he could drink it.

Spike opened the door long enough for Dalton to slip through before closing it again.

“What happened to her?” He asked the bookish vampire.

“She… she died?” Dalton glanced quickly at Buffy, then quickly back to Spike’s impatient gaze.

“I know that you muppet! Question is, how?” Spike pressed.

“The arrow killed her, I’d assume.” Dalton was as uncomfortable as possible. It was never a good thing to be called into Spike’s presence. Heck, it was never a good idea to be around him at all. His temper was known to get many vampires dusted. Judging by the twitch in his jaw, Spike was angry.

“She’s a slayer! A single arrow to the shoulder is not going to take her down.”

“So it was poisoned? With what? If you kept the arrow I could run some tests in our high tech laboratory. Oh wait, we don’t have one.” Dalton instantly regretted growing a spine at this time and took a step back. Spike’s eyes stayed trained on him and he panicked. “I-“

“I should kill you for that but we all know that you’re the only one out of these incompetent fools that could actually be of some use to me. So… good on you, ‘bout time you grew a pair.” Before Dalton’s smile could fully form on his face Spike wiped it away. “Don’t do it again.”

“Were there any symptoms?”

“Symptoms? She got shot, she bled, she ran full speed ahead until she just stopped as if paralyzed. I’d love to say that I scared the livin’ daylight out of her, but we can both see that just wasn’t it. I don’t really care to know the how’s and why’s she died, just want to know whether she’s safe to drink or not.”

Dalton’s eyes drifted to Buffy’s neck at the same time Spike’s did and they both sat in silence pondering the question. Sure, her blood wasn’t as appetizing now as it would have been while still hot and actively pulsing through her veins, but it was still slayer blood.

“Due to the lack of facilities at our disposal, I believe there is only one way to know for sure. Shall I recommend someone other than myself for a taste test?” Dalton asked hopefully. The crowd outside of the door had thinned, but just speaking the words ‘taste test’ had the vampires within earshot practically salivating.

Spike grabbed the first one he could reach and locked shut the door once more.

“You, what’s your name?” he asked.

With short brown hair and eager puppy dog eyes he reminded Spike of his good for nothing grandsire. He would have no qualms over potentially sacrificing this one.

“John.”

“Well, John Boy, be a trooper and take a swig.” A flash of doubt in the boy’s eyes caused Spike to give him a rough shove towards the body.

Without further hesitation, John’s face shifted and he snarled as he bent over her. Fangs a mere inch from her neck, he noted the potential outcomes. He could get a mouthful of blood or he could get a mouthful of poison that would most likely kill him again. Dying wasn’t so bad the first time, so he continued with a grin, but his fangs never touched her. Instead, he barely registered green eyes giving him a look that could chill the devil and two hands on his head that twisted until his neck cracked.

“You couldn’t even check to see if I was dead?” Buffy quipped as she stood and dusted herself off.

“You said she was dead!” Dalton cried out. “You said she was dead!” He quickly backed away to the door and slipped out. Spike stayed put and observed her.

“What? You were going to let that peon drink me? Almighty Slayer of Slayers!”

“Quite the sight, pet. For a dead girl at least.”

“Going to try and tell me I’m dead? Please! Could a dead girl do this?” Buffy flung herself across the room and landed a kick to Spike’s side that knocked him to his knees.

“Maybe not dead, but undead, yeah.”

“Undead. As in vampire?” Her disbelief mocked him. “I’m still warm to the touch, and look ma! No fangs!” Buffy crooked two fingers into the corners of her mouth showing Spike her teeth.

He climbed back to his feet and stood inches away from her. She had to look up to make eye contact with him so she never saw his fist heading straight for her mouth. The force of the punch made Buffy’s head turn to the side and she growled. It was the sound that stopped her in her tracks before she could retaliate.

Hands flew up to her face and she felt that the once smooth expanse of her forehead was now covered in puffy ridges. A swiped of her tongue across the back of her teeth made her cry out when a fang nicked her.

“Really? ‘Cos I was just taking a shot in the dark there.”

Rage took over and Buffy pushed Spike backward. “What did you do?” A shove took place for each word she said until, finally, Spike grabbed her wrists.

“I didn’t do a bleedin’ thing! Now, I suggest you stop trying to toss me around like a rag doll before I fight back.” Buffy shook her hands out of his grasp and felt her neck. No new bite marks.

He gave a chuckle, watching as Buffy tried to suss things out. Her guess was as good as his as to how this happened, but he was trying to find a bright spot in this mess.

Buffy’s confusion quickly switched back to anger when he laughed.

Attack! Rip his throat out! The anger in her scared her a bit. She had never felt anything this strong.

For a moment Spike was rooted in place overwhelmed by the power seeping out of such a small person. He didn’t have much time to be dazed as she started throwing punches.

***

“We get it. You guys fought and you fought, blah. It’s really not any different now. What I don’t get is why Buffy doesn’t register on my vamp radar? Or, how about, why she isn’t all juiced up with demon strength on top of her slayer power? Inquiring minds want to know.” Faith interjected.

Everyone sat around in silence, each for their own reasons. Giles was wondering why the thought had never occurred to him. Spike was thankful to whatever higher powers hadn’t given her that extra power. And Buffy was just plain distracted by other things.

“Let’s mark this one as another anomaly.” Giles said as he wrote down Faith’s questions. “How did your fight end? We don’t need a play by play of the events, but only things you deem vital.”

“I got hot.” Buffy mumbled, staring at her hands, palm up on the table. There was a fine sheen of sweat on each palm. “It didn’t start out slowly either. I was just so used to breaking out in a sweat when fighting it didn’t strike me as odd at first. Then it just became unbearable.”

***

“Slayer?”

Spike hadn’t so much as thrown a punch when Buffy staggered back, wobbly on her feet. Nor did he stay behind when she made a break for the door. She wound her way through the halls of the factory, plowing through anyone in her path. When she got outside, she stripped off her jacket and began fanning herself.

“It’s so hot. I’m so freaking hot!” she whined. Buffy felt like she was on fire. She was sweating bullets, even though the night air was cool. Buffy had never been really sick when she was little, but she new it was a fever. One hell of a fever. “I don’t get sick, vampires don’t get sick.” She rambled.

Spike couldn’t do anything but stand back and watch. The way she was acting reminded him vaguely of Dru when she got lost in her own world. The things coming out of her mouth didn’t entirely make sense to him. He watched as the Slayer tried shaking her clothing around her, letting air in. He could see her top sticking to her body with sweat and it caused him to harden at the sight. When the sweat got thicker her clothes began to cling tighter and he could see her debating whether or not to remove her clothes completely.

He could take her out, right now. It would be so easy to beat her now. Her fever was keeping her so frenzied, her reaction time would be slow. A stake through her heart, it would kill her vampire or not. Dru would be pleased that he’d managed to kill the Slayer, and then maybe she would stop sneaking out for her late night rendezvous’. Everything in him shouted to kill her and take out his biggest threat. So, when she asked for his help, he was surprised that he gave it.

“Blood.”

Buffy stopped wiping her sweat off her head long enough to look at him and try to figure out if he was serious.

“This is what you feel when you get hungry?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. O’ course not. But blood is generally the cure for any vampire ailment. Slayer blood is the good ol’ cure-all but… it seems you’re fresh out of luck with that one. I guess it’s time for you to pick your poison, Slayer. Human or animal?”