The man in the makeup chair had to be asked a second time to sit up straight. With his back to the mirror, he glared at the airbrush tool that the artist, who was quickly losing her patience, had pointed at him.

“I don’t need that crap.”

She let her arm rest at her side, frowning at him. “If you don’t want to look dead on television, then you need a little makeup. Now sit still and close your eyes.”

Dead. He should be dead. That’s what the doctors had told him when he woke up from a coma over two years ago. And even though he could remember nothing of what had happened before he’d been in the coma, he always thought that had rung true. He should be dead.

His agent, Gage, would have a fit if he caused trouble on his first interview. After a quick glance around the dingy little room, he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Not that tight. You’ll end up with little white lines around your eyes.”

“Sod it all,” he said while relaxing his face. “You bloody people are never satisfied.”

He’d already chased away the flamboyant guy who’d suggested a haircut and had endured having a clip put in to keep the hair back from his forehead while the makeup artist did her work. A few minutes later, the artist attempted to turn the chair around so he could see her handiwork. He firmly put his feet down to stop the chair.

“That’s okay. I don’t need to see. Don’t really like looking at myself in the mirror.”

The artist let her mouth fall open. “Why ever not? You are a good looking guy.”

With a shrug, he hopped out of the chair. He wasn’t about to tell her that it gave him a funny feeling to see the reflection staring back at him in the mirror. No matter how long he looked, he didn’t recognize his own face, had no idea who he really was and, somehow, it just felt like a foreign thing to do.

“John!” Gage Michaels stopped just inside the room and folded his meaty arms across his chest. “Aren’t you through yet? You’re on in five minutes.” Then the insufferable man chuckled. “I’ve never seen you so gussied up.”

“Shut your gob and hand me my case,” John said with a roll of his eyes to the ceiling.

Gage grabbed the briefcase by the door, opened it, peeked inside and then glared at John. “Where’s your copy of the book?”

“Gave it to the errand boy. If I know you, you have six copies in a backpack nearby.”

The agent mumbled something about having five of them and left the room, coming back seconds later with a fresh copy to put in John’s briefcase.

“That is for Mr. Stanley. Make sure to sign it for him on camera.”

John followed his agent out of the room and down a dimly lit hallway to the green room, which was white, sparsely decorated and smelled like stale cologne. After he endured Gage’s nervous tugging on his sport jacket and dusting off his creased pants, a crew member with a headset and clipboard called him out and he followed, carrying the copy of his book tucked under his arm. He told himself that he could do this. It was just a television interview, but his first one since his novel had been published. Gage had thankfully had him start out with a program that did not have a live audience, but the show itself was live.

As he sat at the round table on the stage and waited for the host to walk on, John could only hope that this appearance would bring in more sales.

---

With the T.V. on in the background, Buffy methodically added clothes to the growing cluster in the suitcase laid out on the bed. The door to the room was open and Faith suddenly appeared, looking resigned. She leaned against the frame of the door, but Buffy tried to ignore her as the volume on the T.V. increased with the commercials that only came on between shows on the public station.

“You know you could stay longer,” Faith finally said.

“Thanks, but I should get back to Europe. Giles has a new assignment for me.”

“There are tons of slayers who could do the job. You just spend two years kicking demon ass in L.A. and all you get is a two week vacation on a hellmouth with me, kicking more demon ass.”

Buffy paused for a minute and asked, “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

“Had a long stretch in the pokey, remember?”

“You call that a vacation? And that was years ago now.”

“Yeah, well, I was top dog in there, so it wasn’t so bad.”

Faith inspected a fingernail and then bit it.

“Well, you and Robin should get away for a while," Buffy said as she resumed her packing. “Willow says the Caribbean is very nice and very romantic.”

With a shrug, Faith straightened up. “We’re warriors. We’d probably be bored out of our minds in a place like that.”

Buffy grinned. “Exactly. And that’s how I feel. I’m better off working.”

Buffy didn’t add that she wished she had someone to work with. It had been difficult for her to watch Faith and Robin together, happily getting on each other’s nerves and fighting the good fight. She’d spent much of her time in L.A. fighting alongside Angel and the demoted goddess, Illyria, but Angel was just her friend now. Not her partner. Not her lover. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to think of something else. It didn’t do any good to think of the time she’d lost out on with Spike when he’d been in L.A. while she’d thought he was dead. He was really gone now and she had to face the facts. Move on.

Buffy'd learned about Spike from Illyria when the blue goddess had woken up days after she and Angel had been found, passed out with multiple wounds in an alley. Illyria had asked about someone named Gunn and they’d had to tell her that he was dead. She’d only blinked and then asked about Angel. When she learned that he was still unconscious, that he would go on being undead, Buffy could see the relief wash over her, but just as quickly she’d asked about Spike.

Spike had been there. Not a pile of dust at the bottom of the Sunnydale crater. When Angel had finally woken up, Buffy confronted him and, over the course of a couple of days, she’d gotten the whole story and had been so angry that she couldn’t function. They’d sent parties out to look for Spike, but there was no word on the street about a wounded vampire with white hair. They could only guess that he had been dusted in the battle. She’d hung on in L.A. months longer than she was needed, hoping that they might come across him. But it never happened.

Cutting into her thoughts, Faith said, “Well, I wish you would change your mind. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

The suitcase was tough to close, but she finally did it. That would teach her to pack so much and spend all her free time shopping. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took a well-deserved break and watched the show on the public station that was just getting started. She didn’t care what was on; she just needed a moment.

“Welcome to another live edition of Stanley on the Arts.” The camera shot was a close up of a man at a round table in a room void of decoration, save for an easel just to his right with a large poster that caught Buffy’s eye. She leaned in closer and shook her head. The oil painted woman on the cover could almost be her, dressed in a short skirt, black leather boots and filmy red top. The man continued, “I’m your host, Marc Stanley, and today my first guest is an up and coming author out with his first book. John D. Price, welcome to the show.”

The camera switched angles and Buffy shot to her feet, letting out a loud gasp, her hands flying to her throat. She forced herself to breath evenly, but had to sit down when John started to talk. That voice: deep, resonating, yet soft and hesitant. That had to be him.

“Faith! Oh my God. Faith!” She couldn’t temper her voice.

She was getting ready to scream for her again when she heard two sets of footsteps charging up the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Robin shouted, brandishing a stake.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you guys, but I wanted Faith to see this. Tell me who that looks like.”

Faith pocketed her own stake and came to sit next to Buffy, her concerned expression still fixed on Buffy, who looked as if she’d just seen a ghost. And maybe she had. Or maybe she was going crazy.

Robin took a few steps into the room, squinting at the small television set. “Is that—“

“Holy crap! Is that Spike?” Faith said, gripping Buffy’s arm.

The two women leaned to the right when Robin got in the way to turn up the volume, but then he sat next to Faith, a shocked expression on his face, as he stared at the vampire who’d killed his mother.

“This is for you,” the Spike look-a-like said and then patted his pockets the way Buffy had seen Spike do so many times when looking for his lighter. “Do you have a pen, mate?”

While he signed the book, Mr. Stanley talked. “I read the book in two days. It’s a real page turner.”

“And to think, I almost didn’t show it to anyone.”

Faith shook her head and said, “Is that him? I mean the hair is darker and longer, but that’s Spike’s voice.”

Mr. Stanley leaned back in his chair. “Before we get into what the book is about, I think we should talk about you. Your story is almost as fascinating as your work of fiction. Can you tell the audience a little about yourself?”

Buffy concentrated on the man’s hands as he clasped them together on the table. “There’s not much to tell, really. Or rather, if there is, I don’t remember.”

“You were one of the injured during the first set of L.A. riots in 2004, right?”

“Yeah, I was in a coma for six weeks and when I woke up, I had no memories.”

“Amnesia. And no one ever claimed to know you?” Mr. Stanley asked, sadly.

“Well, from what I was told, there was so much unrest and so many other riots that my story wasn’t covered very well. There were lots of injured people. They tried to get my face out there again when I woke up, but no one seems to know who I am.” John shrugged. “I mean, with the accent I know I’m from England, but no one there has come forward to ask about a relative missing in California and my prints don’t show up on any database.”

Mr. Stanley picked up the book and pointed at his name. “So the D stands for Doe?”

“Yes. When I was released from the hospital, the social worker assigned to my case suggested I pick a name to go by. I’d been called John for so long that I kept it and just opened the phone book and pointed to get the name Price.”

“So, how did you end up writing this amazing book?”

“My therapist suggested that I keep a journal or write poetry. I was rubbish at both of those, so I decided to try my hand at fiction.”

“Well, folks, we should all be glad for that. If you haven’t read Stalking Summer, go to your nearest bookstore and get a copy.” Mr. Stanley turned to John. “So tell us about your writing habits. Where do you do most of your writing?”

“My apartment is walking distance from Redondo Beach. I spend most of my days out there with an arsenal of laptop batteries. I used to always be late for work.”

“Now that your book has hit the best seller list, I’m sure you are writing fulltime.”

John chuckled. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to put in my two weeks’ notice.”

Mr. Stanley went on to ask John to give the audience a summary of his mystery novel. Robin stood, put his hands in his pockets and shook his head while Faith and Buffy sat, stunned.

“It sounds like him, the face sure looks like his, but there is no way it could be him.”

“Yeah,” Faith added. “If he was found during the riots, they would have checked for a heartbeat and left him among the dead.”

“And hanging out at the beach?” Robin scratched his head. “Can’t be him.”

“It’s him,” Buffy said, still looking at the screen as “John” walked off the set and a new guest was introduced. Gazing at the pair as if she just realized they were still in the room, she added, “If you don’t mind, I need to make a phone call.”

As soon as Robin shut the door behind him, Buffy fumbled with her purse for her little phone book and dialed the long string of numbers. Giles picked up on the third ring.

“It’s Buffy.”

“Ready to come home?” the head of the Council asked, sounding distracted.

“Change of plans.” Buffy switched the phone to her other ear and grabbed her makeup bag off the dresser to toss into her carry-on bag. “I’m due for a real vacation.”

“But we agreed that you would go to Ireland and supervise the new group there.”

Knowing that she now had his full attention, Buffy said dryly, “I’m sure you can find a replacement.”

“Where will you go? And all alone?”

Doing her best to sound casual while her heart was pounding in her chest, she said, “I don’t know. Was thinking I might rent a house out by the beach in California. Get some sun, maybe take some surfing lessons or whatever.”

“Dear Lord, Buffy, please tell me you aren’t taking up with Angel again?”

Buffy let out a breath in relief; at first she’d thought he knew about Spike. “Of course not. Why do I keep having to say it? We’re just friends. There are no romantic feelings between us. None.”

“Well, why else would you want to go back there?”

“Like I said, I need a vacation.” He started to speak but she cut him off. “I’m sorry, Giles, but I need to go now, or I won’t be able to switch out my ticket. I’ll call you when I get settled and give you my address and phone number.”

It was half past ten when Buffy climbed into the cab at LAX and gave Angel’s address to the driver. Exhausted and with a headache, she requested that the light be turned on. She opened the book that she’d picked up at the airport in Cleveland and began reading Chapter five. She would have been further along if she hadn’t sat gazing at the black and white photo on the back of the dust jacket for most of her flight. Suddenly, she closed the book and turned it over.

Spike, but without the bleached hair. She could tell, even with the absence of color, that his eyes were a clear blue. Touching her finger to his lips, she longed to hear him talk again. She had no idea how long she’d been staring at the picture, but she jumped when the driver had to tell her that they’d arrived at her destination.

“Are you sure this is where you want to be dropped off, lady? Place looks abandoned.”

She handed him a fifty-dollar bill. “This is it.”

With her luggage at her feet, her carry-on bag across her shoulder and the book tucked under her arm, she watched the cab go around the corner and then she turned to stare at the hotel that had been her home for close to two years. She’d been gone just two weeks and she wasn’t happy to be back. She grabbed her bags and, ignoring the boarded up front doors, she went into the alley to a side door and punched the code in the keypad. The door unlocked with a sharp click and she pushed her way inside.

It was quiet and dark in the kitchen, but she knew it would be. With all the slayers gone, it would just be Angel and Illyria.

Buffy left her bags by the back exit and crossed the large space, going through the swinging double doors and turning the corner. The only light in the lobby came from the window in Angel’s office. She held the book against her chest and knocked.

She heard fumbling and then the door flew open with Angel standing on the other side, ready to do battle.

“It’s just me!”

“Buffy?” The sword hit the floor with a loud clank. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Cleveland.”

The book on his desk caught her eye and she held up her own copy. “This.”

The surprised look turned sour, but he offered her a seat before he rounded the desk and got settled in his chair. “I was hoping you wouldn’t see that.”

She tried without success to keep the hope out of her voice. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“I think so, but I can’t say for sure. There was an article in the calendar section of The L.A. Times, with dates for book signings. I wasn’t sure if the picture was really him, so I went to his only night time signing two days ago and bought this copy.” Angel opened to the first page and scowled at the scrawled ink on the paper. “Even got it signed.”

With white knuckles, she gripped her book and leaned forward in her seat. “Did he recognize you?”

“No, but the article in the paper says he has amnesia and we didn’t have a conversation. He barely even glanced at me before he took the book from the person behind me.”

Buffy nodded. “I saw an interview that he did on T.V. I think… I mean…”

“What?”

“He says he does his writing while relaxing at the beach.”

In a rush of words said through gritted teeth, Angel said, “He’s human. The Shanshu Prophecy.”

The thought of Spike as human was too crazy to comprehend. She couldn’t see it, even though she’d actually seen him on live television. “I thought that was about…you.”

Angel stood up, hitting his palms against the desk. “It was about me.” He turned away from her, looked to the ceiling and then faced her again. “He has a heartbeat. I heard it loud and strong—he didn’t even want it! Not really. I mean sure, he fought me for it once, but only because he wanted to beat me and maybe it was a little bit about winning for you, but he liked being a vampire.”

As she watched her ex-boyfriend gesticulate wildly and complain about Spike, Buffy’s head was spinning with it all. Angel reminded her of the three-year-old girl that had been on the plane. She’d asked for ice cream and had kicked at the seat in front of her and hit her mother when she was told no. And yet, Buffy felt for Angel. He was all about redemption and now it was even more out of reach while he was stuck in a huge, rundown hotel, all alone. She had to remind herself that he had brought all of this down on himself when he’d agreed to become head of Wolfram and Hart.

Angel hadn’t really grown all that much since she’d met him when she was a sophomore in high school. Buffy had matured, changed and hoped she’d grown up. But Angel was still Angel. When she’d moved to L.A. with her group of a dozen young slayers, they’d slowly become friends again, always keeping just enough distance between them. Both had realized within days that any magic that had existed once between them was long gone.

“Do you mind if I stay in my old room tonight?” she asked as she stood.

“Stay as long as you like.” The vampire sounded tired. He gazed at her, a slight frown still marring his features. “You know you’re always welcome.”

“Thanks. I’ll just go get my bags.”

She turned to walk out, but Angel stopped her with a question. “What are you planning to do?”

It was none of his business. With her jaw set and her back to him, she said, “I’ll be gone in the morning.”

---

Despite having stayed up most of the night, Buffy was wide-awake. She sat on the steps in front of the hotel as the sky turned pink, and waited for the rental car company to deliver the Ford Focus that she’d ordered last night with her Council issued credit card. The day promised to be hot and dry, her sundress already sticking to her back. She was looking forward to getting to the beach where the breeze would be some relief.

She squinted at the pages of the book in her lap, hoping to finish Chapter ten. Spike was a good storyteller, but it was painful to read. He might not think he could remember his past, but the words on the page proved that his memories were still there, somewhere.

When her car arrived, the driver rushed her through the signing of the paperwork as another car idled behind him. As soon as he had her last set of initials, he grabbed the clipboard and without even saying ‘have a good day’, he hopped into the passenger side of the other car and they sped off. She couldn’t blame him. This part of L.A. was still in shambles and the buildings stood empty; even the homeless avoided the area.

Buffy got in the small blue car and took a deep breath, her hands on the wheel. First thing to do was figure out where she was going, since she’d only been there a few times before, years ago. She took the map out of the glove compartment, spread it open and traced her finger over the route she would need to take to get to Redondo Beach. If memory served her correctly, she would be able to park close to the shoreline if she got there early enough. It was the first week of summer vacation for the schools and the parking lot would fill up quickly.

Her stomach gurgled, but just the thought of eating made her sick to her stomach. Spike’s face would come to mind as she thought of seeing him again and her stomach would roll with nerves. Maybe when she got close, she could grab a bite to eat, but for now, her only goal was getting to that beach. Before turning the car on, she flipped the visor down and checked her makeup in the tiny mirror. She gingerly touched the corner of her eye and wiped away a small smudge of eyeliner. She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d paid this much attention to her appearance, and she scowled at her reflection before starting the car up.

Buffy kept the volume down on the radio, the top forty songs just drowning out the hum of the fast moving car. As she navigated the freeway system, she had a lot of time to think. Spike was human. What would he be like? He couldn’t remember who and what he’d been and she was curious to find out how much he was changed by that. Her heart soared at the thought of seeing Spike again. The traffic cleared a bit and she accelerated.

She didn’t even know what she was going to do if and when she saw Spike. She just knew she had to see him in person.

By the time she got off the freeway, she was hungry enough to pull into a McDonald’s drive-thru. She ate as she drove the last two miles to the beach, but couldn’t finish it once she was in the parking lot, next to the tall apartment complex that ended at the sand. The lot was already more than half-full. She parked, checked her teeth and then popped a stick of Winterfresh gum in her mouth.

Stalling, she tied her hair back and pulled a visor out of her bag, taking more time than was necessary to adjust it. With her heart pounding like crazy, she got out of the car, reached into her beach bag and put her sunglasses on. Now that she was here, she was unsure of what to do. Spike hadn’t said he went to the beach every day to write. He could be off signing books or doing more interviews for all she knew, but she was here now and it wouldn’t hurt to look.

It was a short walk to the steps that led down to the sand. Buffy stood at the top and scanned the crowded beach. There were a few umbrellas scattered about and surfers were coming back to shore after riding the early swells. The younger crowd was just starting to show up and many groups were laying down their towels. She paid close attention to any man that she noticed but, to her great disappointment, none resembled Spike.

She descended the steps, crossed the busy paved path called The Strand and nearly fell over when she went by a low umbrella. She stopped before she could see his face, but his legs were in the sun, a laptop perched comfortably on his knees as he tapped away. She’d know those hands anywhere. Backing up a few steps, she tried not to hyperventilate.

Think, Buffy. Should I find a spot where he can see me, or should I put my blanket down where I can see him without him letting him know I’m here?

He was set so far back from the water, almost up against the slope to The Strand, parking lot and apartment buildings, that she doubted she could find an angle where he couldn’t see her without having to stay behind the umbrella where she wouldn’t be able to see his face. She wanted to see his face. So bad was the desire that her hands trembled. Two girls in bikinis went by her, their feet kicking up sand that hit her legs. They both gave her curious glances, but kept going.

“John!” a guy with long blond hair and a surfboard under his arm said as he trotted up from the water. “You missed some glorious sets.” The guy planted his board into the sand on the other side of the umbrella, unzipped his wetsuit and leaned down to get a good look at the computer screen. “Aren’t you done with that thing yet?”

Buffy took the opportunity to skirt around the umbrella, not even daring to look at Spike, and set up her blanket a few feet away from them, but level with them. She figured this way she would be able to steal glances at him. As they talked, she pulled the sundress over her head, revealing her yellow bikini.

“No, I’m not close to being done.” Spike closed his laptop and glared at the surfer. “And don’t drip on the keyboard, mate. Can’t afford to have this thing short out.”

“Dude, you could afford it.”

Buffy’s heart clenched at the smirk on Spike’s face, but did a double take when she noticed the gold, wire-rimmed glasses. He shrugged as the surfer sat down with him and then his face was blocked from her view. “You’re right, but I don’t have this last bit of story backed up yet. That I can’t afford to lose. Got a bloody deadline I have to meet.”

He was barefoot, his legs lightly sprinkled with hair like she remembered, but the tan was something different. His dark brown cargo shorts looked as if they’d been through the wash countless times.

The surfer jumped up and grabbed his board. “Well, I’m going back to the apartment to get something to eat. It’s getting too crowded for my taste.” He scowled at a group of people laughing as they walked by. “Is it me or are these high school kids getting younger and younger?”

“It’s just you, mate. Sucks getting older, I know, but that’s life.”

“You coming with?”

“No. I’m still feeling it. I’ll be up in an hour or so, unless I fall asleep.” As his friend jogged towards the steps, Spike called out to him, “Don’t eat all the roast beef.”

Busying herself, she covered her legs with sunscreen and watched him out of the corner of her eye as he reached into a small ice chest and opened a frosty beer. He looked so good with his light blue shirt unbuttoned, his abs and chest just as toned as she remembered them. Unable to stand it any longer, she lowered her head until she was stretched out on the blanket and staring up at the blue sky.

She had no idea what to do next. Would it be right to tell him who he had been? He seemed so content just as he was now. He had at least one friend, a job he seemed to like and a peaceful existence. The thought crossed her mind that she should just get up and leave, head towards LAX and take that assignment in Ireland.

Instead, she stayed where she was, letting the tapping of Spike’s keyboard, the gentle roar of the ocean and the call of gulls lull her into a light sleep.

Buffy didn’t know how long she had slept, but the few clouds that had been clinging to the sky were now gone and she was burning up from the sun now high over head.

She sat up quickly when she remembered why she was at the beach and let the breath in her lungs slowly escape when she saw that Spike was still on his blanket. The umbrella, directly above him now, put his whole body in the shade. His laptop was put away under a towel and his beach chair empty as he slept on top of the blanket, on his stomach, face turned to her.

So peaceful. She allowed herself to stare and tears welled up in her eyes. Spike was alive. Really alive! And he looked good. Healthy. His back rose and fell as he breathed deeply in sleep. Looking away, she swallowed hard and had to restrain herself from going over to him. Instead, Buffy stood, stretched and then gingerly made her way past the other sunbathers to cool off in the water.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a relaxing day. Ten years ago, going to the beach on the weekend was what she’d looked forward to, but then she was called and finding the time for surf and sand had been limited. The waves were relatively small and she walked straight into the refreshing water, letting the white caps wash around her, until she was in just to her shoulders. Buffy swam for a few minutes and then headed back to her blanket, back to Spike.

He was still sleeping. She reapplied sunscreen and was just putting the bottle away when Spike’s friend showed up, now dressed in Bermuda shorts and a faded Ocean Pacific t-shirt.

“Dude, rise and shine.” Spike stirred and then sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses. Dirk sat down and ran a hand through the sand. “Gage just called and he’s having a heart attack because your cell goes directly to voice mail.”

Spike reached into his bag and flipped the phone open. “Battery’s dead.”

“Well, you’d better call him back before he sends out a search party.”

“I should be going back in, anyway. Do me a favor and bring all this stuff back to the apartment for me, okay?” Spike stood, gripping his laptop bag and slipped into his sandals.

“Fer sure. I’ll just have a brewski first and check out the Betties.”

Buffy watched Spike walk away before she went into action, trying to pack up her stuff as casually as possible. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she waited until she was at the steps to the parking lot to quicken her pace, taking two steps at a time. She crested the steep climb just in time to see Spike enter the lobby of the tall apartment building next to the parking lot. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had a short walk to the beach.

Buffy took her time going to her car. She placed her beach bag in the trunk, put her sundress back on and then grabbed her purse, only taking a brief moment to pat her hair down after taking off the visor. She looked up at the rectangular building with balconies all around. It was highly unlikely that she’d be able to figure out what apartment he lived in.

The air-conditioned lobby was a welcomed relief from the glaring sun. She took off her sunglasses and let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light and spotting the manager’s office, she headed straight for it. A weathered old man sitting at a desk looked up and smiled.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so. Do you have any apartments for rent?”

His expression didn’t leave her much hope.

“If you’d come in two weeks ago, you could have had your choice of apartments.” He stared at his computer monitor while tapping on the keyboard. “We do have a furnished, one bedroom available, though.”

Buffy sat down in one of the chairs, placing her purse in her lap.

“Ooh. I’ll take it!”

“It’s one of the highest rents we have for a one bedroom. Top floor with an ocean view, west side.”

She shrugged as she dug in her purse for her Council issued credit card and said, “Cost is not an issue. My company will be paying for it.”

“Great! Why don’t you fill out this credit check form while I print out a rental contract? You can take the contract with you, read it and if your credit is good, you can come back tomorrow with it signed and move in right away.”

---

John trudged towards the beach with Dirk at his side. The surfer carried both of their boards plus a duffel bag with changes of clothes and the hot breakfast burritos. John had his laptop case, the ice chest filled with beer and the umbrella. They’d had a cup of coffee before coming down, but as was their custom they were quiet, both barely awake at such an early hour.

The sun was just rising and John paused at the top of the steps to take in the view that greeted him almost every day. The waves were so-so, but the nearly empty beach was a balm to his soul. They had a couple of hours before the sand would be crawling with sunbathers and The Strand filled with an ever-moving line of runners, cyclers and rollerbladers. The diehard joggers were out already, taking advantage of the cool air before they went to their nine to five jobs.

The two surfers were set up in minutes, with the laptop case concealed under the blanket with the towels piled on top. They spent another five minutes stretching out and then John zipped up his wetsuit, grabbed his board and grinned at Dirk.

“Go!” Dirk shouted.

They took off for the water, kicking up damp sand and yelling at the top of their lungs. Dirk was younger, but John was in better physical condition. He reached the water first, jumped on his board, ignoring the shock of cold water to his hands and legs and paddled out as fast as he could.

He stopped and smirked at his friend who finally caught up to John, sat up on his board and tried to catch his breath, saying, “Dude, one of these days, I’m going to beat you.”

John leaned back and admired the ever lightening sky. “You can keep trying, mate.”

Along the line-up, the water was dotted here and there with other surfers, waiting out the lull. John loved this time in the water with his board gently going up and down. If he got a chance to get out before dark, he’d have dreams after where his body was bobbing in the gentle yet powerful pull of the ocean. In the mornings, it was a time for him to meditate, clear his mind and get ready for a day of writing.

The surf report had predicted larger waves than usual for this time of year. They could both feel it when the first wave of the set began to build. Dirk bounced with excitement and John laughed and said, “You take it.”

Dirk didn’t hesitate. He started paddling and John watched as all but his head and shoulders disappeared on the other side as he rode the medium sized wave. Another was building. John felt the pull and the rush of adrenaline hit him like a drug. He could hear Dirk’s shout at the end of his ride, as John paddled faster to catch the impending wave. Standing at just the right time, John balanced, tilting his forward foot into the wave. Flying, floating, soaring over the small yet perfect wave, he let the freedom wash over him, and not wanting the ride to end, he pumped his board to take it all the way in.

As he caught up to Dirk, the surfer yelled, “That was an epic wave, man.”

John nodded in agreement. A wave didn’t have to be huge to be perfectly shaped.

“I’m going out again,” Dirk added. “You coming?”

“I’m not going to be able to top that one. Think I’ll just get an early start on the writing.”

Dirk shook his head, but didn’t complain. More waves for him. John watched him duck dive a breaking wave and turned back to shore. The sky was now filled with morning light and gray clouds that would burn off as the day wore on. People were already starting to arrive. Mostly the vacationers who rented one of the apartments like his own for a month or three.

As he approached his spot, he noticed the girl who’d been next to him the day before. Like yesterday, she was alone, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail with a visor shading her forehead and sunglasses firmly in place. Only today, she wore a royal blue bikini instead of the yellow one. She was applying sunscreen to her beautifully shaped legs. He imagined going over and asking if she’d like help getting the lotion on her back, but he chuckled inwardly at himself. He always sounded suave and worldly in his head, but he knew if he tried to approach her he would get tongue-tied and end up slinking back to his own blanket, humiliated.

It was his curse. Dirk couldn’t understand why he got so shy around women, but it was one area that the big guy never teased John. Woman usually approached John. Dirk on the other hand would plunge headlong into a conversation with any female who stared at him for longer than two seconds. Unfortunately, after ten minutes in his company, women were usually turned off by Dirk’s forward and uncensored mouth and they’d storm off to gossip with the other girls about how much of a jerk that surfer dude was.

John was sure he felt the woman’s eyes on him as he peeled out of his wetsuit. The black Bermuda shorts underneath were wrinkled, but he was more curious as to why she was staring at him than becoming self-conscious. John stole a glance at her. She held a magazine open in her lap, but he could see over the sunglasses and her eyes definitely darted away from him to the magazine when she knew she’d been caught.

Now he felt uncomfortable, wanting to glance her way, but not wanting to be caught doing it. He towel dried his hair and ran a hand through it, trying to tame the wavy curls. He sat down in his low beach chair, not bothering to put his t-shirt on, and reached into the duffle bag for a breakfast burrito wrapped in aluminum foil.

John groaned audibly when he spotted Corky Paladin making his way towards him, carrying his dinged up long board under his arm.

“Hey, John, how’s it hanging?”

Taking a big bite out of his breakfast, John shrugged and made some noises that he hoped would pass for an answer. It was one thing to be a beach bum, but it was another to not pull your own weight. At least in John’s eyes. He couldn’t count how many times the jobless man had borrowed his shower, leaving the place a mess and helping himself to half of what Dirk and John had stocked in the cupboards.

“Got any more of those?” Corky asked.

John leaned over, pulled one out of the bag and caught a glimpse of the woman in the blue bikini. She quickly flipped to another page of the magazine and kept her head down, but he wasn’t fooled. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman was eavesdropping.

With a mouth full of tortilla, egg and cheese, Corky asked, “Are you and Dirk going to the party at Hermosa tomorrow tonight?”

“I think Dirk has to work and I have to make an appearance at a birthday party for my agent’s boss. I might stop by on the way home.”

John knew the guy was fishing for a ride, but all he had to do was ride his bike over on The Strand.

“I saw Misty yesterday. She’s going to be there,” Corky said.

“Good for her.”

“I don’t get you, man. That Betty is still totally hot for you.”

“We broke up weeks ago.” John shrugged. “She needs to move on.”

Corky gestured with his arms out, as if he was catching a wave. “Mind if I move in on that then?”

At least Corky was good for a laugh. Misty would tear him to shreds if he made a move on her, but he didn’t care either way. “Do what you want.”

“I’m stoked!” Corky got up and grabbed his board. “Think I’ll go hunt down some new threads for tomorrow.” He touched the dark stubble on his chin. “I might even shave.” He walked off, still eating the burrito and called over his shoulder, “Catch you later.”

Shaking his head, John got out his laptop and switched it on, his fingertips already buzzing to get moving over the keyboard. Last night, he’d dreamt about the next scene, where Jacob Gold gets injured and Summer Slater reluctantly comes to his rescue. He just opened the file for chapter twenty-two when movement off to the side caught his attention.

The woman in the blue bikini stood up and stretched. He wished he had his own sunglasses on so he could stare longer at that perfect, muscular body with gentle curves. She flipped the visor off and tossed it on the blanket. Next, she let her hair down and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. She looked familiar, but as soon as she dropped the sunglasses and he got a good look at her face, he dumped the laptop and jumped up in complete shock. He couldn't believe what he was seeing!

The expression of shocked recognition on Spike’s face caused Buffy’s heart to pound faster with hope. Did he recognize her? Would all it take to have his memories come rushing back be one glimpse of her: the love of his life? As he looked away and sat back down, her gut twisted with disappointment.

She glanced back at the apartment building and stared at the windows on the tenth floor. That could be her home for the summer. She had an appointment in fifteen minutes with the property manager to hand over the signed copy of the contract in her bag. The manager had given her a tour of the place before she left yesterday and at the time, she’d been excited. While the place was small for the exorbitant rental price, it was beautifully decorated in muted yellows and soft reds with an updated kitchen and a luxury bathroom complete with a Jacuzzi tub and separate shower. The balcony from the dining room led out to a breathtaking view of the ocean and the pier and then it wrapped around the corner of the building to another balcony that led to the bedroom, facing another apartment building on the south side.

Spike’s strange reaction to seeing her face for the first time was making her have second thoughts. Buffy pulled her dress over her bikini and gathered her things. The least she could do was show up for the appointment. She wasn’t committing to a lifetime mortgage for the place. Just a three-month lease. Very aware of the glances Spike was sending her, she slipped her painted toes into her flip-flops and gently shook out her blanket to fold into her bag.

“Er, excuse me,” John said as she bent down for the last fold.

She held the blanket square to her chest and faced him, barely able to talk. “Yes?”

“Are you a model?”

Buffy hadn’t expected that, but it didn’t matter. He was talking to her. Directly to her. The last words he’d ever spoken to her came to mind. ‘No you don’t. But thanks for saying it. Now go!’

She shook her head to rid herself of the gut wrenching memory, but he took that as an answer to his question.

With a wry smile that crinkled the edges of his very blue eyes, he said, “Sorry. I should have known. I gave the description over the phone to the artist, so I doubt he used a model.”

“Um, I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” Buffy said, but with the mental picture of his book cover in her mind, she had a feeling that she did.

He stood up, a copy of his book outstretched towards her. “It’s just that you bear an uncanny resemblance to how I imagined Summer Slater looks.”

She made a show of studying the cover art and then turned the book over before looking up at him again. “I thought you looked familiar. You wrote this, didn’t you?”

His genuinely humble nod was something of a surprise. Spike would have swaggered around bragging about his talent. But not this human version of Spike who called himself John. She glanced down at the oil painted rendering of Summer Slater and said, “I’ve never met an author before.” Mimicking the sexy pose and serious face of the character, she lifted the book to her face and said, “But I see what you mean.”

He gasped and said, “Wow. It’s as if you jumped out of my imagination.”

She wanted to confirm that she had. That somewhere in his brain, he remembered her. Enough to write a story with a detective hero with a criminal past and the bad luck to always fall for women who didn’t love him the way he deserved.

Buffy flipped through the pages, familiar with the weight of the book, as she’d been up all last night in her hotel room, finishing it. If Summer Slater was a fair representation of her, then she would be ashamed of herself, but while she could see the truth of some of Summer’s behavior, she also kept in mind that it was Spike writing the story. He didn’t always see things the way they were.

“This is a good book.” She handed it back to him and smiled. “I couldn’t put it down.”

“You’ve read it?” he said, pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, yeah. I’m looking forward to your next one.”

“Wow.” John scratched his elbow and grinned sheepishly. “I would never have pegged you for a mystery reader.”

Her stomach flipped pleasantly when she glared at him with her hand on her hip and she saw that familiar glazed over, lust filled expression on his face. “What do I look like I’d read?”

“To tell the truth, I see you more as a moviegoer than a book reader.”

Her protest was interrupted by Dirk’s return from the surf.

“Hey, man. You didn’t eat all the burritos, did you?”

Buffy was thrilled to see Spike’s disappointment that their growing banter had been cut off.

“No, but Corky ate one of yours.”

Dirk planted his board in the sand and then stared from Buffy to John. “I just cock-blocked you, didn’t I?”

John slapped Dirk across the shoulder. “Don’t be so rude. The lady and I were just having a conversation.”

The big surfer looked at each of them in turn again, nodded and said with certainty, “I cock-blocked you.” He held out his hand to Buffy. “I’m Dirk.”

His handshake was on the weak side and she was very tempted to go all full strength on him, but she held back.

“Nice to meet you. I’m…” She wildly thought that it might touch off Spike’s memories to hear her name. “I’m Buffy.”

She didn’t know if she was more perturbed at Dirk’s outright laughter or Spike’s wide grin as he stared at his feet. So much for the romantic moment where his memories rushed back and he scooped her up in his arms.

“Well, I should be going. I’ve got a meeting with the manager of that apartment building.” She pointed behind them.

Dirk perked up. “You moving in?”

“Yes. If all goes well, I’ll be moving in today.”

“Glorious!” the surfer proclaimed. “John and I live there too. Which unit are you moving into?”

“Dirk! We could be tandem serial killers for all she knows. She’s not going to tell you which apartment.”

Buffy smiled at John, pleased with his display of manners. It brought back memories of the times Spike had attempted to open doors for her or buy her drinks.

“That’s all right. I’m very capable of taking care of myself.” She picked up her bag and put her sunglasses back on. “I’ll be in 10-G.”

Dirk let out a low whistle. “That’s one sweet pad.”

“And if I don’t make this appointment, it might be someone else’s for the summer.” She waved, putting on a bright smile to hide her nerves from talking to Spike. “It was nice to meet you both.”

Dirk’s voice seemed to follow her from behind as she headed for the steps. “Dude, she’s smokin’ hot and she’s rich. You aren’t just going to let her go like that are you?”

The ground vibrated with heavy footfalls behind her until John caught up to her.

“Uh, Buffy?”

She turned towards him, hoping that her smile was warm enough to be encouraging, even though her heart was racing.

“Yes?”

Her heart went out to him as he searched the space around him for words. Spike always had words.

In a tumble of them, he said, “There’s a party tomorrow night in Hermosa Beach. Since you’re new to the neighborhood, I was thinking you might like to come. Get to know people.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But a girl like you, you probably have a boyfriend and a full calendar. Forget it.”

She grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. “Wait!” Buffy wanted to keep touching him, but she let go when he faced her again. “I’d love to go. I’ve been so busy working that I really don’t know what to do with all this free time. I am new in town, though, and I don’t know how to get to Hermosa.” It was a lie, but it got her the result she was hoping for.

“I could drive you over there, if you want?”

“That would be great! What time?”

Buffy couldn’t help but think that he looked cute when he was puzzled. But why he would be so surprised by her quick yes was beyond her. Spike looked even better in broad daylight than he did in moonlight and even the darker hair color suited him. Brought out his eyes.

“Nine o’clock sound good?”

“Sure. I’ll see you then.” She felt like skipping across The Strand, but she composed herself and as she got to the other side, she remembered that they hadn’t agreed on a meeting place. He was still standing on the other side, looking slightly shell-shocked. “Pick me up at 10-G, okay? At nine o’clock.”

“10-G. Nine o’clock.”

John said it loud enough for her to hear, but it was almost as if he repeated it just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. She knew she was grinning like a fool, but she didn’t care. There were so many things she had to think about, but right now, she just wanted to enjoy the thought that she was going to get to spend some time with Spike.

---

From her vantage point on her new balcony, Buffy could see John’s umbrella and just make out one of his feet. She wanted to go out there and stake her spot next to him like she’d done the previous two days, but she thought it would make her look too desperate. She might be just that, but she didn’t want to let him know it. Besides, he would be coming by that night to take her to a beach party.

She did a little hop and squeal that Willow would have been proud of and then headed back in to her apartment. There was one thing left to do and while she wasn’t looking forward to it, it was best to get it over with.

She sat at the little breakfast bar in her kitchen and picked up the phone. With the paperwork containing her new number in front of her, she dialed Giles’ private line to his office. He picked up on the second ring.

“Rupert Giles speaking.”

“Hi, Giles. It’s me.”

“Buffy! Where are you?”

“In California, like I said I would be.”

After a long sigh, he said, “So when are you flying back here?”

She shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her. “Not sure. Sometime in September, maybe?”

“September!”

“I just signed a three month lease on an apartment in Redondo Beach.” She tapped a pencil on the contract and, while she drew a happy face on it, she added, “I prepaid. Charged it on my credit card. I hope that was okay?”

After stuttering for a few seconds, Giles answered, “You know it is, but what’s going on, Buffy?”

“I just felt like going on a long vacation. Haven’t had one in like, well, forever.”

“What if we need you?”

“Let me give you my information. Do you have a pen?”

She heard papers shuffling. “Yes, go ahead.”

“I’m at 460 Esplanade, Apartment 10-G in Redondo Beach. The phone number is 310-555-7478. Got all that?”

“Got it.

“Well, I have an appointment at a day spa, so I’m going to have to let you go.” She wasn’t lying. She had an appointment to have her hair and nails done at the Spa across the street from her apartment building, but it wasn’t for another couple of hours.

“Buffy, please call every few days so I know that you’re all right.”

The genuine concern in his voice made her smile. “I will.”

It was good to know he cared.

John tapped his fingers on the railing in the elevator and tried to stay calm. As busy as his day had been, the thought of seeing Buffy again had been on his mind. The worst part of his day had been enduring the birthday party at Begins the Mystery Literary Agency. He might be a writer, but he just didn’t seem to mix well with the others, and he’d spent the entire time by himself in the corner. Gage had tried to get him to mix more, but John didn’t see the point of bragging with the other writers and he held his plots and ideas close. He didn’t like to share, and he really didn’t trust the other authors not to steal his ideas. If they wanted to know what he was writing, they could pick up one of his books when they were published. So, he’d stood by the buffet table driving himself crazy, thinking about what he would say to Buffy when he saw her again, knowing full well that once he was in her presence again, he’d turn into a bumbling fool and all his well planned words would be for naught.

He was hoping that he’d be able to relax once they were at the beach party, as he felt at home around the surfer crowd. It didn’t matter what a person did for a living. Age wasn’t a factor either. If they rode a board, there was always room for them. Unless, of course, they came on the scene and hogged the waves and disrespected the locals. Then they might just find themselves run out of town, sporting a nice black eye or worse. He smirked as he thought of one particular idiot that he had the pleasure helping to escort out of town. There was something safe about the simple rules.

The elevator pinged, the door opened and John took short quick steps to the door marked 10-G. He raised a fist to knock and then let his nerves get the better of him. Putting his back to the door, he inwardly berated himself. He’d dated in the last two years, since he’d awoken with no memories of his past. Some of the women were hot, just like Buffy. Some of them made him slightly nervous, but he was able to push past the nerves. This girl seemed more important. He didn’t know if it was because she looked like a character that he thought only existed in his dreams, but his slightly damp palms and his racing heart proved that this one was different from all the rest.

He spun around and knocked before he lost his nerve again. Instantly, the door opened and his heart nearly dropped to his stomach. He wondered how many bathing suits the girl owned. Tonight, she had on a green and white one piece with a matching knee length wrap around skirt. Even the woman’s coral painted toes were sexy, peeking out of white, open toe sandals.

“You look lovely,” he told her.

“Thank you.” Her hazel eyes softened with her warm smile as she stepped back. “Come in. Let me get my sweater and we can go.”

Once they were in his car, Buffy said, “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t been to a party since I was in college.”

“Oh?” He glanced at her as he merged into the traffic on Catalina Avenue. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Twenty-five, but it’s been a few years since I was in college. Didn’t get to finish.”

Her matter of fact tone made him like her even more. He was tired of people who moaned and groaned about the curves life could suddenly take. That’s what made life worth living. To keep her talking, he asked, “So what made you quit school?”

After a deep sigh she said, “Had to take care of my sister when my mom passed away, and then my career sort of took off on me and there was never time to go back.”

“I’m intrigued. What is it that you do?”

John applied the brake for a red light and decided that he even liked her profile as she bit her lip, seeming to think about her answer.

“International Security stuff,” she mumbled then quickly asked, “So what about you? I know you’re an author, but how old are you?”

Keeping his eye on the road once the light turned green, John let it register that she was too quick with the changing of subjects. The possibility that she might have something to hide was more of an attraction than a turn off for him.

“Not sure, really.” He turned left into the beach parking lot and felt her eyes on him. “If you read the bio on the back of my book, you know that I have no idea who I was before May of 2004.” He glanced her way to see her nod. “They gave me the birth date of May twenty-first, since that is the day they discovered me unconscious in an alley. They guessed that I was between twenty-five and thirty years old. I chose twenty-five, so for record’s sake, I’m twenty-seven now, but I could be older.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to have no memories of the past,” Buffy said softly.

“It wasn’t easy at first. I think I was more upset that no one recognized me, but it was a very turbulent time in L.A. when it happened. Then I was assigned to my therapist, who happens to be a beach bum in his spare time. He believes in a bunch of holistic mumbo jumbo and got me enrolled in surf therapy.” He chuckled. “I was skeptical at first, but the whole lifestyle was liberating.”

John got out and ran around the back of the car to open her door for her. She thanked him and they strolled in silence towards the bright bonfire and the hopping party already in progress. He steered her toward the house behind the bonfire where a stream of people were going back and forth and heavy metal music blasted out from the windows.

“Would you like a beer? I’m sure they’re well stocked.”

“Um, alcohol and me are unmixy things, but water, juice or soda would be good.”

“You don’t know how stoked I am to hear you say that. So many of these girls are too much into the party scene. It’s a shame.” He leaned in closer to her and said, “I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not a heavy drinker, myself.”

Buffy stopped all of the sudden and just stared at him. “You aren’t a big drinker?”

He shrugged. “I drink socially and I have a beer or two a day, but I don’t drink to get snot roaring drunk.”

She started walking towards the house again, stealing confused glances at him, but he shrugged it off. He had no idea whose house it was, but John led Buffy through the maze of partygoers and into the kitchen. He handed her a water bottle from the refrigerator and took one for himself. They agreed to go back outside after they attempted to shout at each other in the house a few times and could only hear Van Halen wailing in the background.

The offshore breeze really cooled the beach off after sundown. Buffy stopped just outside the house to pull her sweater on over her head and then let John lead her across the sand to the roaring bonfire.

“Johnny! Dude!” A tall, weathered looking man with long stringy black hair clasped John in a fist-pounding bear hug before letting him go. “Good to see you, man. What the hell have you been up to, besides putting all those words together—and who’s your luscious friend?”

“Uh, this is Buffy. She’s a tourist, here for the summer. Buffy, this is Wally, my former surf instructor.”

So this was one of the people who helped Spike when he was down and out and newly human. She liked the man already. “Nice to meet you.”

John dragged an empty ice chest over for them to sit down on together and Buffy glanced around, taking the scene in. Conversation flowed back and forth all around her, just like the booze, but the sound of the waves crashing muffled all but the closest voices. Wally smiled at her, his white teeth glowing in the fire light.

“So, Buffy, do you surf?”

“No. I just admire those who do.” Or one in particular. She didn’t even try to hide the appreciative look she gave Spike, who she could swear was now blushing.

“Well, if you ever want to learn, come see me. Johnny here can barely stay up on his board. All you’d learn from him is the art of wiping out.”

“Well then, I don’t think I should come see you. You were his teacher, right?” Buffy said.

Laughter erupted all around her as someone slapped Wally on the back. John was grinning from ear to ear and it was contagious.

“Ooh, I like you,” Spike said.

And it was Spike. They might call him John now, but Spike was not dead. And those four words, spoken in that tone and lilt had her feeling faint. To distract herself from her thoughts she jumped to her feet. “I feel like taking a walk. Wanna come with me?” she asked as she took off her sandals.

John stood and they said goodbye to Wally and his friends. They didn’t get more than twenty feet before a man came stumbling towards them, a half empty bottle of hard liquor in his hand. “Hey, John,” the guy managed to say, slurring his words.

Void of amusement, John sneered. “Corky. It’s just past ten and you’re already drunk off your arse?”

Corky looked over his shoulder and nodded his head in the direction of three girls in bikinis, laughing like hyenas and heading their way. “I don’t know how you lasted a whole three months with that bitch.”

“She turn you down?” John asked.

“Yep. And now I’m gonna find me something better.”

Buffy turned slightly and watched Corky walk towards the bonfire. “You’ve got some interesting friends.”

“He’s not my—oh, balls, she’s spotted me.”

“Who?” Buffy strained to get a better look at the girls, now heading towards them with purpose.

“Misty. The redhead with all the bouncy curls in the green suit,” he said, sounding sick to his stomach.

The redhead was drop dead gorgeous--even with the frown on her face--and perfectly shaped. Buffy hated her instantly.

“Listen,” John said in a rush of words. “I know we just met and all, but could you do me a big favor? Would you please lead her to believe that we are an item?”

Without even looking at him, Buffy reached out and grabbed his hand.

Just before the three girls reached them, he leaned in to whisper close in her ear, “I owe you one.”

His hot breath on her neck put pleasant goose bumps over her flesh, but she didn’t have time to savor the moment.

He pulled her a little closer as Misty stopped in front of them, still glaring, but now she put a hand on her hip. “How come you haven’t been returning my calls?”

John shrugged. “Been busy.”

“And who’s this?” Misty said with derision, pointing at Buffy.

“This is my new friend, Buffy.”

Both of Misty’s friends stared at her with murder in their eyes.

“I can’t believe you!” Misty said as her two friends shook their heads.

John puffed up in his own indignation and practically growled. “We broke it off three weeks ago, Misty. You really need to get over it.”

Buffy cringed at his direct words and remembered all the times she rejected Spike in the past. John tugged on Buffy’s hand and led them further away from the bonfire and away from Misty and friends. She almost felt sorry for the redhead, who watched them walk away with naked longing.

“I can’t believe his nerve!” one of the girls said, loud enough for everyone near to hear. “Bringing some other girl around like that.”

“How come you didn’t tell us that you guys broke up?” the other girl asked Misty.

As they walked out of earshot, Buffy didn’t get to hear her explanation. Buffy and John didn’t stop until they were half way between the pier and the bonfire and only let go of each other’s hand when they sat down, just where the water came up to their feet.

“Isn’t Misty a little young for you? She can’t be more than eighteen.”

“She’s twenty.”

He leaned back on his elbows and she stared at him, admiring the way the wind swept his hair back.

“Sometimes,” he added, smiling softly, “I doubt my taste in women, but then I meet a girl like you and my faith in myself is restored.”

He went on to tell her how Misty had only been interested in him because of his success as a writer. She was the Queen Bee of the area and she took great pleasure in holding court over her subjects. But John could only take her for about two months, then spent a third month trying to tactfully break it off with her, only to have to get mean and ugly with her three weeks ago.

“It’s really sad that she can’t take a hint,” Buffy said.

“What’s worse is she couldn’t take it when I spelled it out for her either.” He smiled at Buffy. “But you’ve come to my rescue and hopefully her pride will keep her away now.”

They stared off at the ocean in silence for a little while, their bare toes touching every now and again, until Buffy broke the silence.

“It’s amazing how different the beach looks in the daytime.”

“Yes, it is. I prefer it in the daylight, but sometimes it’s nice to take it in, in the dark.”

“Especially when sharing it with good company.” Buffy agreed with a nod.

She grinned when he glanced down and drew circles in the sand. Buffy couldn’t believe that she was sitting with Spike after thinking that she’d never see him again. Their quiet comfortable togetherness reminded her of those last days on the hellmouth together, only this time there was no impending danger. And it was nice.

John took her home at midnight, walking her to her door. He’d put her hand in both of his and gently caressed it, telling her that he hoped to see her tomorrow down at the beach. When she said she’d be there, he promised to save her a spot next to him.

Buffy closed the door, leaned against it and squeezed her eyes shut. She was falling for him, the human him that he was now. She’d seen glimpses of the Spike she had come to love a few years ago and she’d seen some new things about him that she equally liked.

There were so many ways she could handle all this, including confessing that she was someone from his past that knew who he was. She could not tell him and let things progress, but then how would she break it to him that she was a slayer? And if she told him about vampires, would that jar his memory and freak him out that he had once been one?

She didn’t know a lot and no matter how long she stayed awake, staring at the ceiling in her bedroom, she didn’t come up with a solution for how to handle the situation.

But she did know one thing. Come morning, she was going to park her blanket next to his in the sand and spend more time with him.

Buffy put her arm over her eyes to shield them from the bright sun streaming into her room through the part in the thin red curtains. She braved a look at the clock, groaned and then pulled the comforter over her head. Staying up most of the night was nothing new for Buffy, but trying to get up early enough to meet Spike down at the beach was.

At eight o’clock, she was already late. Not wanting him to think she’d stood him up, she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She was grateful for modern conveniences as the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the room. After a cup of strong coffee, she planned to hop in the shower and then head on down.

She padded into the kitchen, took her only coffee mug off the rack where she’d set it to dry the day before and placed it next to the telephone. With a groan, she glared at the blinking red light that indicated more than one voicemail message. She dialed in to the service and listened with the phone caught between her head and shoulder as she poured her coffee.

“First unheard message…”

“Buffy,” Giles said, his stern voice filling her with dread. “Call me as soon as you get this message. We need to discuss the things that you failed to mention during our last conversation.”

“Second unheard message…”

“Hi, Buffy.” The cheerful voice of Willow made Buffy smile. “Giles gave me your number. I think it’s great that you’re taking a vacation. It’s been a while since we were able to talk. Give me a call when you’re not out relaxing somewhere.”

“End of messages.”

She hung up and stared at the phone while she sipped her coffee. It would be nice to talk to Willow when she had a few minutes. But what did Giles know? She could only guess that Robin had called him. The two of them had always agreed on their hatred for Spike. She couldn’t blame Robin for the way he felt about the vampire that had killed his mother, but she never really got over the things they had attempted to do behind her back to kill him. She hadn’t asked Robin or Faith to keep quiet about Spike being on TV and with Angel knowing too, it was only a matter of time before Giles found out, but she didn’t want to deal with her former watcher right now.

She took her coffee with her to the bedroom, chose an outfit for the day and drained the last drops in the cup while she turned the shower on.

By the time Buffy got out to the sand, John and Dirk were sitting together in John’s usual spot, drinking sodas. Dirk spotted her first and nudged John. John’s eyes lit up when he saw her and it was at that moment that she wished he had his Spike memories, because he’d always wanted her to smile at him the way she was now.

“John was totally bummed because he thought you weren’t going to show up.” Dirk stood up, holding his drink. He hopped, spilling some of his Mountain Dew, when John kicked his shin. “Shutting up now,” Dirk said with a grin. “Also, gonna go up and catch some ‘Z’s. Gotta be at work early tonight. Dude, I hate inventory time.” He grabbed his board and got past the umbrella when he remembered something and turned to John. “You’re still coming tonight, right?”

In mid sip, John waved him off. “I’ll be there.” John patted the now vacant spot next to him and smiled at Buffy. “Have a seat.”

“Where does he work?” she asked as she set her bag down and joined him on his blanket.

“He’s a bartender at Stranded, a night club owned by a local radio deejay. It’s right off the Strand, not too far from here.” He handed her a water bottle from his ice chest. “I usually stop by on Sunday nights.”

After taking a sip from her bottle, she asked, “Why Sundays?”

“They’ve got the best spicy Buffalo wings in town, and they’re half priced on Sundays.”

Buffy couldn’t help but to reach out to him and place her hand on his thigh. “If they had blooming onions, we’d be all set.”

His jaw dropped. “You like blooming onions too?”

She threw her head back and laughed.

John watched her with a gleam in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s so bloody funny but I really like it when you laugh.”

“And I love to see you smile,” Buffy said, sobering up a bit.

Time sort of stopped as they watched each other, but John broke the spell when he cleared his throat.

“So, I was thinking, if you don’t have anything planned for tonight, maybe you’d like to go with me to Stranded?”

“That sounds like fun.”

“I could take you out to dinner first?” He glanced down at her hand, still on his thigh and she snatched it back into her own lap. “There’s an Outback Steak House a couple of blocks away. They have the only decent blooming onion in town.”

---

While they waited for their steaks to arrive, John gave Buffy a summary of some of things he’d been working on for his third book, and they shared a blooming onion. The restaurant was almost empty at such a late hour and she enjoyed listening to him talk. He lamented over the last minute edits he had to do for his second book that was due to be published in two months, but got excited when he spoke of the things he was writing now. She could not believe that she was on a date with Spike. He looked incredible in a pair of black slacks and a beige sweater.

With an animated face and gesturing hands, he said, “So, in the middle of the gun fight, he pulls her into a room. She slaps him and then he kisses her. They have to duck down when there is an explosion and suddenly, she just plants one on him.”

Their steaks arrived and Buffy watched John take a bite of his medium well-done meat. She’d seen Spike eat food a few times, but to see him dig into a full meal and drink wine was just strange. John entertained her with stories of his surfing experiences and some of the crazy things his friends had done. Mindful to keep the stories vague, she told him about some of the fun things that had happened to her and Willow and Xander. She lamented the fact that they didn’t all keep in touch as much as they should, now that they were spread all over the globe.

“You mentioned before that your job has to do with world security. Is it pretty dangerous?” John asked.

“There is an element of danger, but I’d rather not talk about it while I’m on vacation.” He stared at her with interest, so she added. “Sorry, but I haven’t had a vacation in a very long time, and I’d like to keep my work separate.”

“How do I know you’re not on some undercover mission right now?” He pointed his fork at her and said it with a smile, but she knew it was a serious question.

“You only have my word, but I promise you that I’m not working right now. In fact, I’m supposed to be in Ireland on a mission, but I requested a vacation instead.” She looked down at her plate. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore. A girl with secrets is not exactly a turn on.”

He shook his head and placed his napkin on the plate. “As luck would have it, I happen to find a girl with secrets very intriguing. I’m a mystery writer, after all.” His genuine smile put her at ease and he said, “Shall we head on over to Stranded?”

---

John waited patiently just inside the nightclub as Buffy took in the scene. Being Sunday, it was a slower night, with only a few of the locals at the bar or playing pool or darts. The dance floor was empty and the music had been lowered so that people could hear each other talk.

“Oh, I get it!” Buffy said, pointing at the fake palm trees and straw attached to the tables. “The island theme. Stranded on a desert island, right?”

“That’s what the owner was going for.” He couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

She pointed towards the bar. “Looks like your friend has spotted us.”

Dirk waved his arms over his head and then placed a plate of wings on the bar. John put his hand at the small of Buffy’s back and led her towards them, saying, “I’m stuffed, but there’s always room for wings.”

“Hey,” Dirk said as he wiped down the bar with a white rag.

The frown on his face gave John pause. It took a lot to get the surfer down. He waited for Buffy to sit before taking the stool beside her and asking his friend, “What’s going on?”

“The good news is I’m getting off in an hour because I came in early. The bad news is that Chet had to chase a bunch of bikers out about an hour ago, and I got the impression that they were going to come back and cause trouble.” Dirk frowned as he placed two frosty Corona bottles on the bar for them.

“What gave you that impression?” Buffy asked before she took a sip of her beer.

“The big one said, ‘I’m coming back and I’m going to pulverize you.’”

Buffy didn’t seem fazed by what she heard, but John turned to her in concern. “Maybe I should take you home now. I could get you home and get back here in time to give Dirk a ride back to the apartments.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “I’m worried about you though. Bikers can be pretty rough.”

Dirk snorted. “John used to be a bouncer here. He can hold his own.”

She continued to look concerned.

“He’s right. I don’t scare easily and I’m pretty good at talking down a bad situation. I’d feel better if I knew you were safe though.”

“Who knows?” Dirk said. “They could’ve found another group of people to harass and they might have forgotten about us here. I should probably just walk home like I do every night.”

“No,” Buffy said, before John could talk. “Better to be safe than sorry. We can hang out here until your shift ends, and we’ll drive you home.”

John nodded in agreement just as a large, muscular guy came up behind them and clapped him on the shoulder. “I must have been on my break when you came in. How’s it going, big man?”

“Chet!” John turned in his stool and shook hands with him. “I hear I missed all the excitement.”

“Not really,” he said, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. “You know, that same old biker crowd that comes by every year.” Chet smiled at Buffy and then asked Dirk. “This the new girl that Misty was complaining about earlier?”

Before John could make introductions, Buffy stood and stretched her hand out. “Hi, I’m Buffy.”

Chet looked her up and down and then grinned at John as he shook her hand. “Now I see what got Misty’s panties in a bunch. Finally someone who could give her a run for her money.”

Chet chatted with them for a few minutes and then went back to his post by the door. Once John found out that Buffy knew how to play pool, he challenged her to a game. From his vantage point behind her or across the table, she looked incredibly good when she would lean over to take her strokes. He was shocked at how much of a turn on the bantering back and forth was for him as they taunted each other. He complimented her on her form, but ended up having to concentrate on his own technique to win.

The game ended with John being the victor. His gloating was cut short when Dirk came over and announced that he was ready to go. Chet opened the door for them and did a visual sweep of the parking lot before letting them out.

“Seems quiet enough,” the big guy said with a shrug of his shoulders.

A tingling at the base of John’s neck was the first warning that there was a problem. They were almost to the car when a group of bikers charged at them on foot, their bikes nowhere to be seen. Chet had already closed the door, so John yelled to Buffy, “Get Chet.”

She hesitated, looking like she was preparing to fight, while Dirk stood behind him cursing.

“Hurry!”

His last order moved her to action and she sprinted towards the bar with incredible speed. John didn’t get a chance to be impressed. He barely had time to brace himself for the first punch. It stung and he fought to stay conscious. The adrenaline rushing through his system helped and he went into autopilot, swinging and kicking with precision. He never went looking for a fight, but the first time one had found him after he lost his memories, he discovered that he had all sorts of martial arts knowledge and super reflexes. He drew on those ingrained talents now and fought off two of the gigantic tattooed men at the same time.

Dirk shouted behind him and then John heard him struggle before he fell near John’s feet, out cold. Chet arrived in time to start swinging and thinning the herd out a little, but what he wasn’t prepared to see was Buffy, right in the thick of things. A strange vision popped into his head, of Buffy fighting like a ninja while a creature with the head of a shark watched nearby. John got hit square in the eye because he couldn’t take his eyes off her and his sight blurred. Stumbling back, he growled in frustration and then went after the biker, sweeping his leg out in a wide arc and tripping the man. John quickly stomped on the man’s head and took a deep breath when the biker passed out.

Chet had a biker in a denim vest in a chokehold. The guy was turning purple, but Chet wasn’t about to let him go. Another biker flew through the air and landed on a parked car, the alarm going off with the impact.

“Did you just throw that guy in the air?” John asked Buffy incredulously.

She didn’t have time to answer, because she had to duck to avoid another biker’s fist. John charged at the man and they both ended up on the black asphalt, where John struggled to get the upper hand with such a strong man trying to hold him down.

Buffy got behind the biker, gripped him by the collar, flung him off to the side and stuck a hand out to a stunned John to help him up. Dirk was just coming to, Chet dropped the unconscious man to the ground and John brushed off his soiled sweater. A couple of patrons from the bar were walking towards them, but they suddenly turned and ran back in the building. John glanced over his shoulder in time to see the two police officers with guns pointed at them.

“Police! Put your hands up where we can see them.”

“Bugger.”

Dirk groaned.

Chet cursed.

But Buffy, she just grinned at John, her hazel eyes sparkling and glassy with what looked like unshed tears.

Through the bars of the holding cell of the Redondo Beach Police Station, John sighed again and gazed at Buffy. She was alone in the cell for females across from theirs and he wondered how she could look so calm. Had she seen that side a cell before? His intent stare turned into a scowl as he shifted slightly. The cold metal bench under him was starting to get really uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but admire Buffy, who sat on her own metal bench and stared back at him, just as intently.

John gingerly touched the swollen skin around his eye and was glad that he hadn’t been wearing his glasses tonight. Dirk groaned beside him and John patted his leg.

“You’ll be alright, mate. I don’t think it’s broken.”

Dirk removed the wet rag from his nose and glared at John. “Yeah, well, it hurts like a bitch, broken or not.”

Chet stopped pacing in front of them and through clenched teeth said, “If you’d learn to put a filter on your fucking mouth, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“What? All I said was that the biker chick looked like her face got put through a meat grinder. It was the truth.”

John glared at Dirk. “That’s what this was all about?”

With a shiver of disgust, Dirk said, “You should have seen her.”

Just then, two of the bikers came in, followed by two police officers. They shoved them into the cell next to John, Chet and Dirk’s. As soon as the guards left, one pointed across the way to Buffy. “Hey, that’s the chick that tossed me across the parking lot.”

Buffy just looked down at her shoes and grinned.

“Don’t be a wuss, man. She’s way too tiny to be able to throw you,” the other guy said.

Dirk stood up and started to say something, but Chet grabbed him, covered his mouth and pushed him back down into the bench. Disgusted with his friend, John got up and wrapped his hands around the bars. Buffy also stood and, with a smile on her face, she mirrored his actions and held onto her own bars.

John always wondered how he came to know martial arts and how he ever honed his reflexes to be so precise. He’d spent a lot time when he was at the hospital, coming up with scenarios for who he might be, which he was currently working his way through in the four books that he had planned out. The woman across from him seemed to have better reflexes than he did and an unnatural strength for her size and weight. His body reacted in an irrational way to the thought of sparring with Buffy. He let his mind go and wondered what it would be like to be shoved against a wall by her.

Horrified at his thoughts, John shook his head as if to throw them out.

“You all right?” Buffy asked.

“Just don’t like being cooped up, is all.”

“It shouldn’t be long now.”

“How far away is this friend of yours?” John said, hoping that he didn’t sound jealous.

She never clarified what kind of friendship she had with the man on his way to the station, and John knew he had no right to feel jealousy. It should have been enough that she’d told him that she didn’t have a boyfriend.

“At this time of night, with the lighter traffic, he could be here within the hour.”

“And he keeps that much cash lying around?”

She nodded. “He doesn’t trust banks and has a safe at his home.”

John was grateful that she knew someone who could help them out. With his next royalty check due any day, he didn’t have enough to bail himself out. Chet and Dirk both didn’t have enough cash on hand either. Buffy mentioned that she didn’t want to use her company funds to get bailed out, because she didn’t want her boss to find out what happened. When she offered to get her friend to bail them all out, John was sure she’d come back and say that he would only get her out, but after she’d made her phone call, she came back to her cell and said that some guy named Angel was on his way with the cash for all of them.

There was a girl over in Manhattan Beach named Angel that he’d gone on one date with and so when he would hear that name, he could only envision a tall girl with short black hair. And while he’d never seen her in anything but beach wear, he could always picture her in a trench coat for some reason.

A uniformed police officer entered the holding area and consulted his clipboard. “Summers, Browning, Price and Hastings, stand at the doors please.”

Within minutes, all four of them had signed papers for release and then they were ushered out to the station lobby. John held the door open for Buffy and let it go to hit Dirk as he tried to pass through.

“Dude, watch what you’re doing,” the surfer exclaimed.

But John was transfixed by the man who stood at the reception window with a grim expression on his face. It had to be Angel. He knew it was Angel. John suddenly felt self-conscious and an unexplainable maze of mixed emotions washed over him. Chet went forward, introduced himself and shook the man’s hand, promising to pay him back for the bail money.

Angel wore a dark trench coat, much like John had imagined. Too long to actually look good on the man, but he still appeared formidable. Dirk gave John a shove forward and the world around him got a little fuzzy, sort of like a dream where things slowed down. It felt like memories were trying to claw their way up in his brain to where he could reach them, but they wouldn’t surface.

Buffy wasn’t smiling. She played with a ring on her pinky and wouldn’t meet Angel’s eyes or John’s. He didn’t like it. Something was really off.

“Hi. I’m John Price,” he forced himself to say as the strange feelings subsided. “And this is Dirk Browning. Thanks for bailing us out. We’ll pay you back.”

If anyone thought it was rude that Angel didn’t offer his hand to John and Dirk, no one said so. Instead, he mumbled something that sounded like, “Nice to meet you.” Angel’s own expression seemed to mirror the way Spike was feeling. Dislike, laced with respect and a bit of shock.

Buffy cleared her throat. “Could you give us a ride back to the nightclub?”

“My car’s just outside.”

John was very aware of Angel watching him intently as they walked to the car. The three men sat in the back while Buffy sat in the passenger seat. The ride was quiet and from John’s vantage point, diagonal from Buffy’s seat, he could see her wringing her hands.

Normally not the most observant of men, Dirk seemed to catch on to the tension between Buffy and Angel and noted John’s increasing agitation. In a loud voice that pierced the low humming of the car, he asked John, “Did you remember to ask Buffy to go with you to that thing you have on Tuesday?”

Buffy quickly glanced at Angel then turned in her seat to look back. “What thing?”

“Uh…well, I have this mystery writer’s convention that my agent insists that I have to make an appearance at. Tuesday afternoon. Since you’ve read the book, I thought you might like to come with me.” He brushed a stray piece of lint off his leg and then stared at her again. “There will be free food and I’m only sitting on one panel and have one book signing session.”

“I’d love to go with you,” Buffy said softly. “Where is it being held?”

“Anaheim. At the convention cent--”

“Where do I turn?” Angel asked abruptly and Buffy turned back to give Angel more directions.

Angel kept his engine idling and his hands on the wheel as everyone else exited the car. Chet waved goodbye before he jogged towards his car around the back of the club.

“Give me a minute,” Buffy said to John as he held a hand out for her. “I need to speak with Angel.”

He nodded and walked with Dirk towards John’s Volkswagen Jetta. Thinking about it, he was sure that he’d met Angel before. Somewhere. He tossed the keys to Dirk and turned back towards Angel’s car. Buffy was leaning into the driver’s side through the open window and as he got closer, he could hear her words.

“I don’t want to talk about it now. I’ll call you soon. After I talk to Giles.”

Angel made a motion with his hand to indicate that John was right behind her. She stood up straight, smiled a little too brightly at him. “You ready to go?”

“Not yet.” Going to Buffy’s side, John leaned down to peer into the car. “This is going to sound crazy, mate, but I think we’ve met before. Only I don’t remember it because I lost all my memories. Do you know me?”

Buffy placed a hand on John’s shoulder, but Angel said, “I did go to your after hours book signing at the Hollywood Barnes and Noble. You signed my copy of your book.” Angel scowled as he said it, and John wondered what that was all about. The dark haired man didn’t look like the type that went to book signings.

“Oh,” John said, moving back from the car, feeling silly and a little disappointed that Angel wouldn’t be able to tell him anything about who he had been before.

“I’m amazed that you would remember my face.” Angel’s countenance softened from the scowl to something John could only describe as fondness. “With all the people you’ve met lately, that’s quite a memory you have.”

John scratched his head, not quite knowing how to process the way the other man was acting towards him. “I guess so. Well, thanks again for bailing us all out. How will I know where to send the money I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

John started to protest, but Buffy cut him off. “You can give it to me, and I’ll make sure Angel gets it.”

“Dude, let’s go!” Dirk said from the passenger side of John’s car. “I’ll never be able to get up for the waves tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep.”

Angel waited for them to get into the car and get it started before he sped off back to Los Angeles. They only had to go one block, and as soon as John parked the car, Dirk headed for the building, telling John that he wouldn’t wait up for him. In the elevator ride up to Buffy’s floor, John leaned against the safety rail and grinned at her.

“Well, this date didn’t go exactly as I had planned.”

She closed her eyes briefly as she let out a short laugh and then tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I have a feeling things don’t go according to plan with you very often.”

“How did you know?” he said cheerfully, as they stepped out of the elevator and walked towards her door. “Sod’s Law and I are best mates.”

She put the key in the lock, turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. They stared at each other, but Buffy didn’t step inside.

“Um, maybe you should come in and put some ice on that eye.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” John touched it and winced. “Is it already turning purple?”

“Yes, but I have plenty of ice.”

“I’ll be fine.” He wanted very much to step inside her apartment and start something that would lead to him staying the night, but something told him he should hang back a little. Take it slower. This was not the run of the mill average type of woman and instinctively he knew how much she could end up meaning to him. He didn’t want to cheapen that. “And despite the end of our date, I had a really good time tonight.”

Buffy smiled at him, the corner of her eyes crinkling. “I had a wonderful time and I don’t know about you, but the fight was kind of exciting.”

John couldn’t seem to get Angel off his mind. “Can I ask you something?”

She leaned against the frame of the door and shrugged. “Sure.”

“I couldn’t help but notice the tension between you and Angel. What is he to you?”

She shifted from one foot to the other. “A long time ago, he was my boyfriend. But now, we work together on occasion. I just got through with a two-year assignment with him and I don’t think he expected to hear from me again so soon.”

He gently took her hand in his. “I really like you, Buffy, but if you have some sort of push and pull going on with Angel, then I need you to tell me now before I get any more crazy about you.”

John was so relieved to see her shake her head. “Absolutely not. Angel and I are just friends. All that time that we worked together, there were no romantic feelings. Between the time that we dated and when we first started working together again, we’d both had other relationships and had grown into different people.”

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.”

He loved a take-charge kind of woman, so when she made the first move, by standing straighter and putting her arm around his waist, he leaned to meet her halfway. Their lips brushed together and it was like dry brush igniting on fire. She pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and he put his arms around her, holding her tightly. The air around them seemed to crackle with electricity even as their lips separated. He went back for a short but passionate kiss and then reached up to touch her cheek.

“I’d better go before I turn into a git and start feeding you lines to convince you to let me in.”

Her happy little sigh gave him the confidence he needed to know he was doing the right thing by not rushing things.

She ran a hand over the thin sweater covering his chest, the contact making him shiver as she said, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

She didn’t close her door. He turned and walked down the hall to the elevator, very aware of her dreamy stare in his direction. Little things about the night nagged at him, but as he glanced at her smiling face one last time before entering the elevator, he filed the negative thoughts in the back of his head to be pulled out later, when he wasn’t on such a high from the beginnings of a new romance.

John tried to be quiet as he entered his dark apartment. He walked through the living room with its glass-covered, framed movie posters of his favorite surfing documentaries, The Endless Summer and its sequel, the comfortable brown couch and bookshelves. Switching the light on in the kitchen, he grabbed the last clean cup in the cupboard and poured himself some water from the pitcher in the refrigerator. The kitchen was never spotless. Dirk usually waited until every plate and utensil was used before he did the dishes. That or he would wait until the cleaning lady came on Thursdays.

Dirk appeared from his bedroom. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight. Didn’t get lucky, huh?”

With a grin, John said, “Oh, I got lucky, all right. She’s a bloody gem, that one. And well worth waiting for.”

“Why wait when you could partake?”

“Never mind that.” He pointed to the sink. “But, please, have these dishes done before we leave in the morning. I’d be ashamed to invite her up here with this mess.”

“Already talking about inviting her to the pad? You’ve got it bad, dude.”

“Yes, I think I have.”

“I’ve met someone,” Buffy said into the phone as she carried her pizza box out to the balcony.

“You haven’t been there a week yet and you’ve already met someone?” Willow said, her voice rising in excitement with every word.

“Uh huh.”

Buffy had just taken a bite of a slice of pepperoni as she stood gazing at the glorious sunset. John and Dirk were out there now, along with a full line-up of surfers catching the accurately predicted large waves.

“More! I need to know more,” Willow said, laughing.

“Sorry, was eating my super-healthy traditional Sunnydale dinner.”

“Ooh, Pizza!”

Buffy sat down on the padded bench where she could still see the line-up. A wave was just growing and she strained to see the surfers as some of them paddled to ride it in. She couldn’t make out which one was John. “So, the guy I’ve met, he’s a surfer.”

“Name,” Willow demanded.

“John.”

“Describe what he looks like, please.”

“He’s perfect.” Buffy couldn’t help but smile. “Light brown hair. It’s kinda wavy, and hangs in his eyes sometimes. Which reminds me, he has very blue eyes.”

“I bet he's all muscle-y, since he’s athletic.”

“You have no idea,” Buffy said with a shuddering sigh. “The man has rippling abs and he goes around in surf shorts all the time. He even looks hot in a tight wet suit. The one he wears goes to mid-thigh so I get to see his awesome legs.”

“What’s he like? Surfer. I’m thinking not-so-bright.”

Buffy laughed. “He writes mystery novels for a living.”

“Wow. And where is this artistic Adonis right now?” Willow asked.

“He’s surfing, actually.”

“Isn’t it night time in California?”

“Almost. The sun is going down, but it’s a full moon tonight and the surf report said larger waves of the good kind.”

“He ditched you for a bunch of waves?”

“Yes, and I don’t mind. He took me out to dinner last night, we spent most of the day together today and tomorrow he’s taking me to a convention where he has to speak and sign books.”

“What’s his full name? Next time I’m near a book store, I’ll buy one of his.”

“He only has one out now, but the sequel will be out in two months and he’s writing the third book now. The first book is called Stalking Summer. His name is John D. Price.”

Buffy could hear pencil-scratching sounds on the other end as Willow mumbled his name.

“Got it.”

“Willow?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something else I need to tell you…about John. But if I do, you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”

“What?”

“He’s Spike.”

Buffy held her breath while the line stayed silent and kept holding it when Willow finally spoke up through her shock. “I’m sorry, but did you say he’s Spike?”

“Yes. He’s Spike, shanshued.”

“I…uh… Buffy, are you sure? I thought that prophecy was about Angel?”

“Are you near a computer?”

Sounding perplexed, Willow said, “I’m always near a computer.”

“Look up w-w-w dot johndprice –no spaces, no lines—dot com.”

“Okay,” Willow said, pausing to type it in. “I’m there—ooh, it does look like him!”

“Do you see the multimedia link on top?”

“Yep.”

“Click it and then click the Stanley on the Arts interview.”

Buffy took another bite of her pizza while she waited. The sun was almost completely set and it was a beautiful sight. John had told her to look out when it was dark and she would see a bunch of bobbing glow sticks from around all their necks. John’s voice came through on the other line as Willow watched the video of the interview.

“Wow, Buffy, that is Spike.”

After Willow watched the full video, Buffy told her everything. How she’d seen it and had flown out right away, how she’d met John and about the incident last night when he’d met Angel.

“So have you told him what—who he was before?”

“Not yet. I don’t know if I can do it. He’s so happy, Willow.”

“And you’re falling in love with the human him, aren’t you?”

The soft and understanding way Willow said it was what Buffy needed right now.

“Yes. Spike is in there still. The way his scarred eyebrow goes up, the way he curls his tongue and the way he says some of his phrases. But there’s this calm…contentment that is who John is and I love that too.”

“I just can’t believe that he didn’t recognize you.”

“Well, he did, but he thinks it’s some sort of coincidence that I look like the depiction of Summer on his book cover art. And it’s been years since he’s seen me.”

“It’s just…I mean, if he loved you the way he seemed to, I would think that he wouldn’t have forgotten you, amnesia or not.”

“Read his book. He didn’t forget me.” Buffy wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I am Summer. The next book is called Summer Takes All and the third will be Summer Lost.”

“If you don’t tell him about his past and you get together with him, he’s going to eventually find out that you’re a slayer. Don’t you think that might jar his memory, when he finds out that vampires are real?”

Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Buffy said, “I don’t know. I can’t think that far ahead. I thought I’d lost him twice and now I have another chance. That’s all I can think about right now.”

“I don’t blame you,” Willow said, choking up. “If I had another chance with Tara… I’d take it in a heartbeat and damn the consequences.” She paused. “Just be careful. I would hate to see you get your heart broken.”

“I can’t be careful. I was careful before and I lost him. He didn’t even believe that I was in love with him. So much so, he kept the fact that he was back a secret and lived with Angel of all people.”

Willow sighed. “You don’t know how tempted I am to get on a flight to California and be with you.” With a chuckle she added, “That and I’m dying to see Spike in person as a human.”

“I kinda need to do this alone.”

“How did I guess you were going to say that?”

Buffy could hear the smile in her voice.

Willow paused then wondered, “Does Giles know?”

“I think he does. He keeps leaving me messages, and I’ve been too chicken to call him back.”

“Call him, Buffy.”

“I plan to. Tomorrow, when I know he’ll be at home and hopefully alone.”

---

Buffy finished applying her lipstick and then glanced over at the clock. She was ready early. They didn’t have to be there until noon for the V.I.P. luncheon, and she wasn’t expecting John to show up for another hour.

Her satisfaction turned to dread when she entered the living room and saw the telephone. She had to do it. Giles would be home on his day off. It was the perfect time to call him. She grabbed the cordless phone and practically threw herself down on the couch. She used the remote to turn on the television and with the women of the View bickering in the background, she dialed Giles’ apartment in London.

Two rings and he picked up. “Hello, Rupert Giles speaking.”

“You even answer your home phone that way?”

“Buffy. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You’re right. But I guessed from your numerous messages that you know.”

“I do. No thanks to you.” Giles paused before saying, “I shouldn’t have to hear about this from Robin. You should have told me.”

Buffy kept her eyes on the TV screen as Barbara Walters waved her hands in that elegant way of hers and waxed on about something while the younger women listened intently, nodding their heads.

“I wanted to be sure first.”

“And it’s taken you a week to be sure?”

The sarcasm in his voice irritated Buffy.

“No…I…It’s just--it’s him. He’s human. He’s healthy, happy and productive.”

“That’s nice. You can come home then.”

Home. That was England for Giles, but was it for her?

“I wasn’t lying about wanting to go on vacation. I’ve got this place for three months and I’d like to stay.”

“Is that fair to him, Buffy? For you to get close to him and then walk away. And what if being around you causes his memories to come back? If he’s so happy as he is, would you do that to him?”

“He’s seen me and he’s seen Angel and even though he asked Angel if they’d met before, his memories haven’t come back. I don’t think they’re going to,” Buffy said, desperately thinking of a polite way to end the uncomfortable call.

“You are being very selfish,” he said, disappointment dripping from his words.

She got up from the couch to answer a knock at the door.

“Maybe I am. But you know what? It’s about time I did something I wanted to do, don’t you think?”

Without looking to see who it was, she opened the door and there John stood, smiling softly at her, dressed in navy blue slacks and a white dress shirt, open at the collar. His hair was slicked back with gel, reminding her of Spike, even without the bleach job. He wore his glasses and carried a briefcase, completing his author costume.

“Morning, love.”

“Buffy?” Giles asked.

She lowered the phone and smiled back at John. “Come in. You’re a little early. How was the surf this morning?”

“Don’t know.” He stepped into the apartment and kissed her softly on the lips. “After last night’s session in the dark, my muse went crazy and I was up all night writing.”

“Have a seat. I need to finish up this call.”

She pointed to the couch. John sat down and reached for the remote.

“I’ll just be over here, minding my own business. But there’s no way I’m watching a bloody girl’s show.”

With a grin, she turned her back to the couch and headed for the breakfast bar. “You still there?”

“Is that him?” Giles asked.

“Yes.”

“Dear Lord, he sounds exactly the same.”

“I know.”

“What is he doing there?” Giles asked, not the least bit concerned about being nosy.

“I’m just about to head out to a writer’s conference with my friend John. He’s a mystery writer.” Buffy glanced back to see John turned in his seat, grinning at her. She put the phone away from her ear and covered the mouthpiece. “I’m talking with my boss in England. He’s curious about your book.”

John stood up. “’S not published overseas yet. Gage is working on it though.”

“I was thinking of shipping a copy to him,” Buffy said, as she put the phone back to her ear.

“Well, here,” John said pleasantly as he put his briefcase on the counter and opened it to pull out a copy. “I can even sign it if he likes.”

“You hear that?” Buffy asked, amused over the whole situation.

Giles cleared his throat. “Um, yes, well… You can tell him I’m looking forward to reading it, I suppose.”

John stood, poised with his pen. “Who should I make it out to?”

Giles was silent on the other end and Buffy said, “Giles. Make it out to Rupert Giles.”

As John wrote, he read the words aloud. “To Buffy’s boss, Rupert Giles. Please accept this book as heartfelt thanks for letting Buffy have this holiday in California. I’m eternally grateful. John D. Price.”

There was still silence on the other end.

“Giles says thank you and that he can’t wait to read it.” She pointed at the phone. “I’ll just say goodbye and then we can go.” Into the phone she said, “Does anyone else know about…”

“As far as I know, only Robin, Faith and I know that Spike is alive.”

Aware that John was watching her as she talked, she said, “Angel and Willow have been briefed as well, but can we keep it at that for now? Please?”

Giles sighed. “I haven’t brought it to the attention of The Council yet and I will hold off until we both agree to let it be known.”

“Thank you, Giles. I have to go now, but I’ll call you again soon.”

“I know you’re probably not going to listen, but I strongly advise you to end this and get on a flight as soon as possible, back to England.”

She let her eyes drift to John, who stood by her, an adoring expression lingering on his face as he put his hands on her waist.

“Sorry, can’t do that,” she told Giles.

And then she hung up.

John got up from Buffy’s couch when she hesitantly came out of the bedroom. Her flushed cheeks were enough to heat his blood to a fevered pitch, but he didn’t want to spook her. She wore shape camouflaging flannel pajamas, after all.

With a hand on her hip, she said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“But I’m so glad that you are.” He touched his tongue to his upper teeth. “There’s no better way to stay in and watch movies than to be comfortable.” John strolled to the door and opened it for her. “After you.”

Before he even had her door closed, she’d raced to the elevator and was slapping the button. John casually made his way to her and laughed at her jitteriness. The doors opened and she stepped inside, yanking him with her when her patience with his relaxed attitude wore off.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried.”

“Easy for you say when you aren’t the one walking public halls in your pajamas while it’s light outside.”

He tilted his head and grinned at her, taking in her bare feet, long pants and long sleeved shirt. Briefly he wondered if she wore undergarments, but shook the thought out of his mind. To distract himself, he glanced at his watch. “The sun sets in fifteen minutes. And you don’t have a problem walking around in a bathing suit, but pajamas with teddy bears on them make you blush?”

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and Buffy rolled her eyes. “Great.”

Two girls, about twelve, entered and immediately started giggling. John put his arm around Buffy’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze before he said, “We’re on our way to a slumber party.”

The bolder of the two looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Where are your pajamas?”

The elevator dinged and opened to the second floor. “Oh, look!” Buffy said brightly. “Our floor. Come on.”

They stepped out of the elevator and John led her to his apartment. He chuckled. “Saved by the bell on that one.”

“You don’t know how close I was to telling them that you sleep in your birthday suit and don’t have PJ’s,” Buffy said.

He stopped her at his door and narrowed his eyes at her, his keys in hand. “How did you know that I sleep that way?”

“Uh…” Buffy stared at her painted toes. “Lucky guess?”

John grinned at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure it wasn’t a fantasy?”

The blush was back in her cheeks and all he wanted to do was pull her close and kiss her silly. Instead, he opened the door for her and let her pass. He felt like a ponce while he held his breath and waited for her to be done looking around the open living area.

“This is definitely a bachelor pad, but it’s nice.” She strolled over to his framed movie poster for The Endless Summer and gently touched the glass. “Is this the movie we’re going to watch?”

“Yes, but like I said, we can watch a chick flick if you’d rather.”

“No, I’m dying to see what your favorite movie is like.” She moved to stand by the suede couch and ran her hand over the back.

“The sequel is actually my favorite, but you have to see the first one before you can get the second one.” John headed for the hallway. “Have a seat. I’ll be just a minute. Gonna get out of these convention duds and get comfortable.”

“Ooh, I could make the popcorn while you do that.” She moved towards the kitchen and paused by the long breakfast bar, a smile on her face, as she took in the cluttered collection of shot glasses, beer mugs and wine flutes. “I can tell that a bartender lives here.”

“I wish he’d organize them, but every time he comes home with a new one, he just sort of sets it where he feels like it at the moment.”

She followed him into the small kitchen and he quickly showed her where everything was. Then he left her to it to change. The popcorn was in the microwave by the time he came out of his room in a light gray t-shirt and navy blue cut off sweats. The movie was already in the DVD player, so he sat down and played with the remote until he had it paused and ready to go.

Placing a large bowl of popcorn and two sodas on the coffee table, she sat down next to him. “You do have sleep clothes.”

“These are for when I work out.”

“When do you work out?” she asked, her eyes lighting up with what John could only guess was arousal.

“Twice a week, right here at the apartment gym.” With dry humor, he said, “Great machines, but the place smells rank and I wouldn’t recommend using the showers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

John pointed the remote at the TV. “You ready?”

She reached for the popcorn, nodded and sat back. As the credits started, she turned to him and said, “Do you think your agent liked me?”

John had been impressed with Buffy earlier in the day. She’d quietly tagged along with him, sitting in the back of the conference room when he participated in the panel discussions. She conversed with Gage at the luncheon and even got the serious man to smile a few times, and she’d stood off to the side as John signed books, gazing at him like she was proud of him.

“I think Gage was just as impressed with you as I am.”

She tossed some popcorn into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, not able to contain a relieved smile. “I’m glad. I know how much he means to you.”

“If it weren’t for Gage and his overbearing ways, I’d still be throwing people out of Stranded for one dollar more than minimum wage an hour. Though I sometimes miss the excitement. And I can’t believe I just confessed that to you.”

“How did you meet Gage?”

“He’s an old friend of my therapist. The only person I intended to show my first book to. He sent the manuscript to Gage and he jumped on it.”

They both turned to face the TV as Bruce Brown began to narrate. Buffy was quiet and seemed fascinated with the surfing documentary. He’d seen the movie so many times that he could keep his eyes on her and still see the images in his mind. He just thought it was cool that she was interested in the things he liked. Most of the girls he met were self-absorbed and didn’t give a rat’s ass what he cared about.

John scooted closer to her and as smoothly as he could manage it, he put his arm over her shoulders. Buffy snuggled against him and sighed. It felt right. Like she belonged there in his arms. The powerful emotions he was feeling for someone he hadn’t known very long should be terrifying, but all he could feel was a sense that all was right in the world.

By the time the movie ended, they’d gone through two bowls of popcorn and the room was cloaked in darkness with only the light from the TV illuminating it. They stood together and John couldn’t help but put his hands on her waist when she stretched. She let her hands come down and rest on his shoulders. They stood there like that, just staring at each other for a minute. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to get his hands up her shirt and go further than that, but he didn’t want to seem like a horny jerk.

She broke the spell by saying, “Where’s your bathroom?” But she didn’t move.

“Straight down the end of the hall.”

“Great. I’ll be right back.” Buffy kissed him softly and then she left him there, staring after her and resisting the urge to touch his lips. She stopped in front of the hall. “Can we watch the sequel?”

“You liked it then?”

Her eyes lit up. “I loved it. In fact, you’re going to have to teach me how to surf now.”

Turning off the light as she left the bathroom, she paused in the hall and blinked to give herself a minute to adjust to the dark hall. She walked into the kitchen when she saw the refrigerator light on with the door open. Bent down, John had his head in the freezer. Buffy rubbed her arms, glad that she’d worn her only non-sexy pair of pajamas, because John kept his apartment very cold. As if it knew how cold she was, the air conditioner hummed to life right then.

John jumped when he turned and saw her standing there. He chuckled nervously. “You sure are quiet.” He held up a carton of ice cream. “We had a late lunch so I was thinking maybe ice cream for dinner?”

“That sounds heavenly. What kind do you have?”

He glanced back at the open freezer. “Um, chocolate and mint chocolate chip.”

“Can I have a scoop of each?”

He grinned, grabbed the other cartoon and handed it to her. She couldn’t help but marvel at how domestic they were being as he took two bowls from the cupboard and two spoons from the drying rack. He gave them both generous scoops of each flavor and she helped to put back the cartons.

Reaching into cupboard, he pulled out a bottle of PX Sherry and arched his brow at her. “A little dessert sherry with the ice cream?”

She nodded, so he grabbed a couple of wine glasses. Picking up the cold bowls, she shivered. “Can we have a blanket for the couch? I’m already a little chilly, but if I eat this ice cream, I’m going to be freezing.”

John went around to the couch and stood as he poured the sherry into the glasses. “Sorry about that. Dirk says I keep this place colder than a tomb in Siberia, but I just can’t sleep unless it’s like this.” He’d put the bottle down and swept his arms once in the air as she sat down and he added, “I can turn it down, if you like, or I can get that blanket and we can cuddle underneath it.”

“Blanket,” she said, around a mouthful of mint ice cream.

It was tempting to distract John as the movie started and she almost did it. She could think of nothing else but the idea of smearing his face with ice cream so she could kiss and lick it off. The thought gave her nerves that started in the pit of her stomach and branched out. While she had slept in the same bed or cot with Spike that last year before he’d died, saving the world and destroying Sunnydale, she hadn’t been with him in the physical sense since he’d left for Africa the year before that. They’d been too busy with The First and he’d been too wracked with guilt about the year before to be physical with each other. It might be better if she just jumped his bones now and got it over with so she could stop obsessing over it.

Done with their ice cream, John took her bowl and placed it on the coffee table next to his. He offered her another drink of her sherry and she swallowed small amounts of the sweet beverage. She declined when he offered to fill her empty glass. One was enough for her.

“Come here,” he said, his voice deep and sexy.

John leaned back on the arm of the couch and held the blanket open for her. Happily, she snuggled on top of him and sighed in contentment when he covered them with the blanket. With her head on his chest, she could hear and feel his heart beat. Strong and steady, beating out a mantra that sounded to her like: ‘I’m alive, alive, alive. I’m alive, alive, alive.’

He must have detected her distress because he asked her, “Is this too intimate for you? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Swallowing hard, she shook her head and barely got out, “No. This is really nice.” She managed to wedge her hands under him and gave him a hug. “Really, very nice.”

With his arms around her under the blanket, she allowed herself to relax more than she ever remembered letting her guard down with any man in her life. He smelled good, like mint and sherry and maybe a hint of laundry detergent. She was full and warm from equal parts him, the sherry and the blanket. It was difficult, but she forced herself to focus on the television.

John said, “The blond guy, Pat, still lives in California and I’ve run into him a few times.”

“Seems like he’d be fun,” she said and then yawned. The guy reminded her of Spike. Pat was high energy and ready for any wave, the way Spike was always ready for a fight. And they had the same hair color too.

John was right; the second movie was more entertaining. The jokes were funnier, the music more lively and the color brighter. But still, Buffy was lulled to sleep by John’s even breathing and the sherry running through her veins.

A pitchman shouting about cleaning supplies jarred Buffy awake sometime later. Not wanting to wake John, she eased up onto her elbows and watched him sleep. Just looking at him did things to her insides. She glanced down between them, licking her lips. The sleep hard-on might also have something to with the hum of every cell in her body.

His shirt had ridden up just enough for her to get a glimpse of the washboard abs that she’d never forgotten. Buffy’s fingers itched to run over them, but she didn’t want to wake him up. She also had to use every ounce of willpower to keep her hips still. If she moved them, just slightly, she knew it would feel great.

Coming to, he stirred and she gently lowered back down to rest her cheek on his chest. She felt him tilt his head up and then he put his hand on her head.

“You all right, pet? Your heart is racing like mad.” His whole body jerked and she had to hug him to keep from getting knocked to the floor. He tried to pry her away, but she held on tighter, not wanting to give up the close contact. “No wonder! I’m…er…hard as—”

“It’s fine. I know it’s because you were asleep.”

His voice seemed to tighten as he strained to say, “Yeah, well, it’s quickly turning into something else.”

There was no willpower strong enough to hold Buffy back now. She eased up on one elbow and slid her other hand under his shirt. John drew in a breath and she could feel the goose bumps rising on his flesh. The familiar feel of his rough hair that narrowed from his navel and went lower was something she’d dreamed about when she thought he was dead. His hand found its way up her shirt, caressing her back.

He whispered, “No bra?”

“No bra.”

With his free hand, he gripped the back of her head and pulled her down on him again. She slid up his body, a little higher, so that their lips could crash against each other. Giving in to the temptation, she slowly moved her hips, now in line with his throbbing hard on. They both let out a low groan and soon his hands were in her pajama pants, gripping her ass and pressing her firmly down on him.

Their tongues slid together as the friction between their clothed bodies intensified. She was close to climaxing from the contact alone; she was so turned on by being with him like this again. It would be easy to shove both of their bottoms off and let herself sink down on top of him. Blindly, she wanted nothing else but to do that, and when she managed to get a grip on his waistband, he suddenly paused and covered her hand with his own.

With concern written all over her face, she raised up again. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh, God, no. You’re doing it all right. Too bloody right is the problem.” He took in a shuddering breath. “We should slow down.”

Her heart was in her throat, but she managed to ask, “Why?”

“Because,” he said earnestly, holding her head in his warm hands and caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “I didn’t invite you up here to get you in my bed. I’m crazy about you, I hope you know that. Just think we should take it slow.”

She felt like whimpering, but instead she nodded, only wishing that Spike were there right now. He wouldn’t tell her no. But as she lowered her head back to his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight, she realized that John was right and that it was better to slow down.

His chest vibrated as he chuckled. “It’s times like these that I wish I wasn’t so full of integrity.”

“I’m glad you are,” she said, softly.

She reached up again and kissed him gently, doing her best to ignore the pulsing of both their lower bodies and focused on his lips. Seconds later they were kissing passionately again, quickly heading towards the fevered pitch of arousal where they’d left off, when the door banged opened.

John gripped her around the middle, turned them on their sides and looked up.

“Dude,” Dirk said, not even trying to hide his amusement. “I’m totally interrupting something.” Buffy couldn’t help but smile as John glared at his roommate who pointed towards the hall. “I’m just going to wash the cigarette smoke off and then hit the hay. Please, resume what you were doing. I was never here.”

They stayed perfectly still until they heard the shower running. Then John loosened his grip on her and shook his head. “Sorry about that.”

She giggled. “Can’t blame the guy for coming home from work.” She glanced around, searching for a clock. “I wonder what time it is.”

John squinted at his watch in the dim light, tilting it at an angle to reduce the glare from the TV. “It’s one o’clock. I think I should walk you home.”

They steamed up the elevator on the ride up, but she stopped herself from inviting him into her apartment. Buffy did give him one last kiss that she hoped would make him dream about her and then she closed the door on him. After a long shower, she fell into bed, staring at the ceiling with a goofy grin on her face until she fell into a peaceful sleep.

Dirk slid the bowl of oatmeal towards John, who stared blankly at the wall in their tiny dining room.

“Eat. I don’t want to miss the good waves.”

A lazy grin flitted across John’s face as he thought of the reason why he was so tired this morning. He blindly reached for his coffee mug and took a sip of the hot liquid. He wondered if Buffy was still asleep or not, the image of her in flannel pajamas with happy teddy bears scattered on them in his mind.

“You’ve got it bad.” Dirk shook his head in pity.

“No secret there. She’s bloody glorious,” John said, mixing his English slang with surfer talk. Finally, he took a spoonful of the cooling oatmeal and swallowed. “I had the craziest dream about her last night.”

Dirk snorted. “Was she dancing around a pole in nothing but a g-string?” John clenched a fist and glared across the table at him. “Dude, guess not. I had a dream like that about Misty.”

Almost as if he forgot Dirk was there, John started talking. “We were in this house that was falling apart. Her hair was pulled back and she kept sneering at me, saying things to me that I couldn’t make out. The words were garbled as if she was talking underwater, but I knew she hated me.”

“That’s some twisted mind you have there, bro, ‘cause from where I sit, the girl has it just as bad for you as you have it for her.”

“I know.” John paused to take another bite. “I have no idea why I would have a dream like that, but it gets crazier. Crap is falling down all around us, she slams me against a cracked wall and then… Well it went on from there.”

The only way he could describe what she did next in the dream was that she’d flat out shagged him, impaling herself on him where he stood...until they fell through the floor. John had never had such a crazy dream before. There was no logic to it at all. He ended up flat on his back, with very little pain from the fall, in the messed up basement with bits of house falling all around him.

“She rode me like a woman possessed,” he said with wonder and disbelief that his brain could conjure up such images.

Dirk got up and took their plates to soak in soapy water. “Yeah, well, I’m fixing to ride my board like a surfer possessed. Let’s go.”

John grabbed his short board and stood outside the hall, waiting for Dirk. The surfer paused and looked him over. “Where’s all your other gear?”

“Not planning to stay. Just gonna catch a few gnarly ones and then I’m meeting Buffy at the gym.”

---

The insistent ringing of the telephone woke Buffy up. She blindly reached for it on the bedside table, knocking over a glass of water in the process.

“Hello,” she whispered, then cleared her throat and tried again. “Hello.”

“Buffy?”

Buffy sat up, a frown of concern marring her features. “Angel? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really,” he said in that monotone way that had gotten on her nerves the last two years. “I just thought you’d like to know that two of your slayers are coming to stay at the hotel.”

She rubbed at her eyes. “Why?”

“Giles called and said that he wanted to start up a center here again. He asked me to house the girls until they can get a new building, but I don’t see the point in that. This place is huge. Might as well get some use out of it.”

“Too quiet for you after my crew left?”

“Yeah, maybe a little.”

“Well, I’m not surprised Giles agreed. He tries to save Council money any way he can and there’s a certain justice to having The Senior Partner’s cash funding an L.A. operation.”

Angel had siphoned millions from the company before he’d staged his last stand. During the major battle, Slayer Central, set up just blocks from the Wolfram and Hart building, had been destroyed.

“I’m using some of that money now to fix up the hotel. I was wondering if you could come down here Friday and meet with the contractor. He won’t come at night.”

“You can’t get Illyria to, you know, do that changey thing where she looks like a woman?”

There was a pause and then Angel grumbled, “I hate when she does that. You didn’t know Fred like I did. It’s just—”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I’ll have all the repairs that I want done written down in detail, but the first thing that needs to be done are the glass doors and windows up front.”

“You’ve had those windows fixed more times than Xander had to repair my window in Sunnydale.”

“I’m requesting bullet proof glass this time.”

“Smart.” She paused and got out of bed. “So did Giles say which slayers would be coming?”

“Um…yes. Vi and Sharelle. They will be here in ten days.”

That was good. Vi and Sharelle had been a part of her team and had lived in the Hyperion with her and ten other slayers. They were seasoned warriors after two years in L.A. and they had probably volunteered to come back.

“Good. So what time should I be there on Friday?”

“Is 9:00 a.m. okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“How is Spike?”

“He goes by John now,” Buffy said, letting her deep-rooted anger with Angel over keeping Spike’s return after burning up on the Hellmouth a secret come to the surface. She didn’t want to share John with Angel.

“Despite the black eye, he looked good.”

“He is good. Fit as a horse.”

“It was a good thing you were there to help fight off those bikers,” Angel said.

Buffy smiled at the memory of the fight. “It was kinda like old times. And I think he might have retained some of his strength. I mean, he definitely didn’t forget his fighting skills.”

“You think he’s stronger than the average human?”

Angel sounded equal parts excited and envious. Another thing that he missed out on by signing his right to the Shanshu prophecy away, though Giles had told Buffy that Angel was just assuming the prophecy was about him and that Spike was just as likely to have been the one all along.

“I can’t be sure. I was busy fighting off a couple of the bikers myself, but John held his own in that parking lot and walked away with only the black eye. We’re going to work out together today and I’m hoping to talk him into sparring with me so I can test his strength.”

It was quiet on the other end. She was just about to say goodbye and hang up when Angel spoke again.

“He recognized me.”

This was something that she didn’t want to admit. An envy that ran so deep that it was irrational. John had written books about her, but when he’d been face to face with her, he only thought she might be a model used for his book cover. He saw Angel for two seconds and yet he asked him outright if they knew each other in the past.

“You said yourself that he recognized you from the book signing.”

“Buffy, he didn’t even look up at me. There was a very long line and I was towards the end. He was tired and I think he just wanted to hurry and get out of there.”

“Why would he remember you and not me?” she asked, knowing that she sounded petty. “He was in love with me.”

“We’ve known each other much longer and we have a deep connection. That last year, we were becoming close.”

“Oh, God, you two weren’t—”

“Of course not,” he said, peeved. “We’re family. We fought like brothers and we fought side by side like brothers too.”

Stunned, Buffy held the phone and stared off into space. They’d argued about Spike that first week after Angel had come to, two years ago. Her heart and mind had been in anguish and she’d refused to see that he’d been feeling the same way. After a week of butting heads over the issue of Spike, they silently and mutually agreed to not discuss him at all. Spike’s name just never came up. They had more important things to do, like keeping L.A. from going under the way Sunnydale had, figuratively speaking. She had no idea that Spike and Angel had been getting along at all. That still didn’t make her feel better about John recognizing Angel and not her.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you in two days.”

---

Buffy crinkled her nose in distaste. John hadn’t exaggerated when he said the building’s gym smelled bad. Like dirty socks, moldy water and--she paused just inside the doors and braved a deeper intake of breath--cheeseburgers. Unlike a commercial gym, there were no employees milling about. In fact, the gym was empty.

Buffy had come dressed in sweatpants and a black tank top, but she carried a bag with her towel and water bottle. She took the bag with her, set it by one of the few weight machines in the room and stretched, getting ready for her warm up.

The door creaked open and John walked in, wearing the outfit he’d had on last night and grinning at her. His tennis shoes squeaked as he walked towards her and ran a hand through his damp hair.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said and then planted a quick kiss on her lips. “The surf was better than I thought it was going to be.”

“That’s okay. I just got started.” She glanced around. “Guess this place doesn’t get much use.”

Facing Buffy, John stretched his arm behind his head. “I’m usually the only one here when I work out during the day, but after five, there’s always a few people in here.”

After a quick warm up, they worked with the weights. Buffy was mindful of not lifting too much and not to make it look effortless. She remembered all too clearly how Riley had handled the fact that she was stronger than he was. But after a few minutes, she forgot about her weights and just admired John while he lifted his set.

He didn’t lift the pounds that Spike could have, but he looked just as good as he did when he was a vampire, so she wouldn’t pity him. Spike would have hated that. Pity. She abandoned her weights and got on a bike across from where John was still working the free weights.

John paused and pulled his sweaty t-shirt over his head. She wanted to cry "unfair!" If she’d been distracted before, she was doubly distracted now. So much so that when he spoke to her, he had to ask twice.

He sat up, straddling the bench. “I said, what is your secret for being so strong for a girl?”

She stopped pedaling and was both nervous by his question and a little peeved. “What, girls can’t be strong?”

“I didn’t say that. I think it’s awesome the way you took on those bikers, but I just want to know how you got so strong. Does the government give you drugs or something?”

“What, you mean like steroids?”

“Well considering that you aren’t growing a beard, no, I wasn’t thinking steroids.”

She shook her head and dismounted the bike. “No. No drugs. Just diet, exercise and intense training.”

“That must be some awesome training.” He said it with a smile and then went back to his weights.

Buffy moved around the room attempting to look busy, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Every time he lifted a weight, the muscles in his stomach rippled. She didn’t think it was possible for him to look any better than he had as a vampire, but humanity looked good on Spike. The tan was a great improvement.

John stopped when he noticed her appreciative gaze. Standing up, he grabbed his towel and put it around his neck. With hooded eyes, he asked, “Like what you see?”

“Yeah, I kinda do.”

And she really liked when he threw all that Spike confidence at her. Her heart picked up its pace when he walked towards her, the swagger so familiar that she went weak in the knees. He stopped in front of her and cut the sexy demeanor off in a snap. With a sheepish grin, he said, “I would kiss you, but I’m sweaty.”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. No one could turn a mood on a dime the way Spike could. The way this human version of him could. Buffy reached out and tentatively touched his gleaming chest.

“I don’t care. It’s really sexy and,” she paused to breath in, “you smell like the ocean.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t have time to shower.”

She tilted her head and rose up slightly until their lips met. John tried to kiss her and keep his body away from her, but that wasn’t good enough. She pressed against him, kissing him with vigor.

They were both breathing heavily when they parted. He grinned at her while he patted a damp spot on her tank top. “You are something else.”

With a sidelong glance, she asked, “Is that good or bad?”

“Very, very good.”

It felt great to be with him. To tease and joke with him, to kiss him, touch him. There was so much more that she wanted to do with him. She glanced around and noticed a door on the side wall that was made mostly of glass.

Nodding towards it, she said, “Do you think that is an aerobic room?”

“It is, but they don’t hire an instructor anymore.”

“I need to keep up my training and an open room like that is perfect. You wanna help me?”

“What? You mean like train with you?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded and without hesitation, he took her hand and led her to the room. It smelled a lot better than the other room, like lemon-scented cleanser. He turned on lights and headed for a set of cupboards. Buffy helped him drag out the thin blue mats and then they stood in the middle of them, facing each other, unsure how to start.

“I have to warn you,” John said, “I have no idea how I know martial arts or even what type I know. It’s just pure instinct.”

Buffy shrugged, eager to get started. “I know a little of everything and it’s second nature or instinct for me too. Something tells me we're going to get on fine. Just don’t go easy on me.”

“Yeah,” he said, backing up a little. “But you’re a g—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll lay you flat on this mat right now.”

A sparkle of interest in John’s eye had her smiling. He went on the offensive in a surprise move, attempting a sweeping kick that would have knocked down a mere mortal. She was able to leap over his leg like a jump roper on the playground. John paused for just a second, not expecting her to still be standing. Buffy waited.

He attacked again and again, but she was able to block every punch and kick. With a grunt of exertion, John upped his game and came at her with full strength. It wasn’t Spike the vampire strength, but she was thrilled to see that he was very strong. Buffy switched tactics and went on the offensive. With speed and precision, he blocked her moves, even ducking just in time to miss a punch thrown to his head.

But, she did have to go easy on him.

The determined glint in his eye coupled with the grin on his face said he was enjoying himself and so was she. Their grunts echoed off the empty room and soon their loud breathing added to the cadence. After another five minutes of going back and forth, Buffy could tell that John was tiring. She got her leg between his, gripped his shoulders and had him on his back before he knew what was happening.

Buffy straddled his hips and waited for his breathing to go back to normal. He propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head.

“That was crazy! You’ve got skills. And I must have learned some of the same disciplines as you to anticipate so many of your moves?” he said, with head tilted and his lips slightly parted.

“You weren’t expecting that last one,” she said with pride.

He chuckled. “You’re right about that, but I’m not complaining about my predicament.”

His eyes drifted to where their bodies met and his smile slowly waned, replaced with the heat of lust in his gaze.

Relief didn’t describe how glad she was to see that he wasn’t threatened by the fact she’d bested him. She smiled shyly at him. Apparently, humanity hadn’t taken his lust for dominant women out of him. Buffy couldn’t help herself; she rotated her hips as she’d done the night before. Suddenly, John grabbed her and hugged her to him, rolling them over so he was on top.

He smirked while he played with her hair. “So you like a little rough play, do you?”

“How did you guess?” was her coy reply.

“You’re perfect for me, you know that?”

And Buffy did know it. As he leaned down to kiss her again, she gripped his head and helped him get there faster. All the time that she’d fought his obsession with her, all that time she agonized with guilt over the sex they’d been having while her friends were clueless, had been a waste. A waste she hadn’t felt until she’d lost him.

It was amazing to be in his arms again. To let herself stay there. She made a promise to herself, right there. She wouldn’t waste any more time.

John nibbled on her lip, but she held him there when he tried to rise up. Buffy touched the scar on his eyebrow and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her hands on him. When he opened them again, she looked him in the eye.

“Come up to my apartment with me.”

He nodded, stood and offered his hand to her.

In the middle of Buffy’s luxurious bathroom, John glanced around in awe; he was most impressed by the Jacuzzi tub. “This is one fancy set up.”

“I know. It’s almost worth the sky-high rent,” Buffy said, her voice magnified by the shower’s acoustics as she turned the water on. She straightened and faced him. “And like I said, there’s room for two in here.”

John slowly took his t-shirt off, more nervous than a teenage boy before his first time. He stood frozen to the spot when she pulled her tank top over her head, revealing perfect handful sized breasts. He really hoped they could hurry the shower along. Already growing hard, the sight of her naked as she got rid of the pants and underwear at the same time had him fully erect in seconds.

Buffy put her hands on his chest, running them down his firm abs and taking hold of the waistband of his shorts. She gently eased them down and over his erection and he used his feet to get them all the way off. Taking his hand, she guided him to the steaming shower. Once the door clicked closed behind him, he couldn’t take his hands off her. The water poured over them and while he leaned in to kiss her neck, she reached for the bar of soap.

It wasn’t long before they had lathered each other up. They rinsed off and stared at each other as they washed their own hair. No words seemed necessary. As if a spell had been cast in the room, rising up with the steam and connecting them on a deeper level. John turned off the water and she reached for towels.

They kissed, letting their tongues dance, while they dried each other off. The towels dropped, forgotten, as they shuffled together towards the bed. Her soft skin belying the strength inside, Buffy's wet hair fanned out behind her on the pillow as he joined her, covering them up with the sheet.

He kept his mouth on her, planting a trail of kisses down her jaw, her neck and in between her breasts. Buffy writhed beneath him, little sounds of pleasure escaping her lips. She gripped his shoulders and pulled him up to kiss him on the lips again, her hips moving, begging for him.

“Please, John, I can’t wait. Make love to me. Now.”

Pausing for a second, John let the thought that he rarely heard his name on her lips sink in. But her writhing and her deep breathing spurred him on. He sat up, reached over to the nightstand and ripped open the small foil packet that he’d placed there earlier. With impatient hands, she grabbed the protection and rolled it on for him before pulling him back down for another kiss. She was very much ready for him and though he tried to enter her gently, Buffy gripped his thighs and encouraged him to go faster. He didn’t need much prodding and once their bodies were joined completely, he lost some of his control. His thrusts were deep and powerful and she met him with gyrating hips on every powerful lunge.

John held out as long as he could, the fact that he was more turned on than he could ever remember being and the fact that he hadn’t been with someone in quite some time not helping. Her walls tightened, her breath hitched and although it was bordering on painful to keep going, he waited until she gasped and fluttered around him before he allowed himself release. He got his arms around her and held her tight as he continued to move until he had nothing left.

Still joined, they came down from the high together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Buffy clung to him tightly as if she thought he’d float away from her. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck, her legs holding him to her. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip and eased out of her. He got up and quickly disposed of the condom before returning to the bed.

Buffy was a perfect fit in his arms as she rested her head on his chest. They were silent and their breathing heavy as their hearts began to beat normally. He kissed the top of her head and she said, “That was…”

“Glorious?”

Playfully, she slapped his chest and looked up at him. “Did you just use surfer slang to describe what we just did?”

Her head moved with his chest as he chuckled. “Sort of. It would be surfer slang if I describe it the way we do riding a great wave.”

“How’s that?” she asked languidly.

In a false American accent that sounded suspiciously like his friend Dirk, he said, “Dude, that was one glorious ride!”

Buffy groaned and let out a giggle at the same time. “You are bad.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

It was obvious that her mood had changed. She sighed and turned towards him more, laying her arm across his stomach. Following her, he wrapped his free arm over her and gave her a gentle squeeze. They snuggled that way for a long time, neither of them willing to move, and it wasn’t long before they were both asleep.

---

The next morning, Buffy rushed around getting ready after kissing John goodbye at her door. They’d had chicken noodle soup for dinner last night, eating it out on the balcony as they watched the sun go down. He’d teased her about her culinary skills and she promised to make him a four course meal soon, defensively telling him that she could do it, but she just didn’t stock her cupboards for that. They’d watched some TV and ended up back in her bed. She’d been nervous about asking him to stay the night, but John didn’t know their sordid past. He’d humbly accepted, saying that he’d need to leave Dirk a message on their answering machine so he wouldn’t wait for him in the morning to head out to the surf together.

She had to leave in a few minutes if she wanted to be on time to meet Angel’s contractors. She had grabbed a strawberry yogurt to eat in the car on the way and opened the door when the phone rang. With a sigh, she shut the door and hurried to answer it.

Giles greeted her on the other line.

“You’ve caught me at a bad time. I was just on my way out the door.”

“Off to meet with Spike?” he asked in a careful tone.

“No. I’m helping Angel with something and if I don’t get a head start on the traffic, I’m going to be late.”

“So you’ve spoken to him?”

“Yes, I know that Vi and Sharelle are coming out here in a little over a week.” Buffy tapped her fingers on the counter as she eyed the clock across the room.

“Good. A watcher has been assigned to go with them as well. I—”

“I’m sorry, Giles, but I really have to go. I get the idea. We’re starting a Slayer Central in L.A. again. I’ll do what I can to help, but I am on vacation.”

“Yes, well, I know. I just thought you’d like me to keep you informed.”

“I do. But I’ll talk to Angel about it, okay?”

---

Buffy had arrived with minutes to spare before the contractors would arrive. Angel barely had time to go over what he wanted and hand her the paper before there was a knock on the side door. She dealt with the contractors as quickly as she could and was glad that they agreed to come back in three days time to do the job, so that it would be done by the time Vi, Sharelle and the watcher arrived.

She let the three men out and headed upstairs in search of Angel, but found Illyria instead.

“Slayer,” the goddess said, giving her a quick glance and looking down on her in distaste. “Do we get glass out front again soon?”

“Yes, it’s all set,” Buffy said, glancing past her in the hall. “Have you seen Angel?”

“I believe he’s in his living quarters.”

Buffy watched Illyria brush past her and dismiss her without a word or so much as a glance backwards. The Slayer shrugged and headed for Angel’s room. She knocked quietly and he was quick to open the door.

“Done?”

“Yes and it’s all set. They’ll be here on Monday and they’ve promised to have the job done by Wednesday.” She chuckled. “When I asked if they wanted to measure, they said they already had the dimensions.”

With a grim line to his lips, Angel nodded. “We’ve used them before.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as she stood in the hall. “Well, I guess I should go now.”

Angel put a hand up to stop her. “Before you do, I want to show you something. Just give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

She shrugged and waited maybe sixty seconds before he came into the hall.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A surprise. Sort of.”

As they descended the steps she said, “Giles called me this morning to tell me about the slayers coming.”

“I just got off the phone with him myself. There is some sort of hold up in the Council as to which watcher will be coming with them, but Giles is certain it will be ironed out before they have to leave.”

Angel walked her to the back of the building, stopped her by the exit to customer parking and put a set of keys in her hands.

“What’s this?” she asked, frowning down at them.

“Keys to your new car.”

“Huh?”

“Giles mentioned that you were renting a car and I thought about the perfectly good car we have sitting in the back that Illyria never drives.”

Buffy was there when Angel had tried to give the blue goddess driving lessons in the Lexus that he’d bought for her almost two years ago. It hadn’t gone well and she had decided that Angel should have to drive her everywhere anyway.

Buffy started to shake her head, but he said, “It just been sitting here, all this time. I turn the engine to keep it running, but you know there are very few miles on it.”

“It’s too much.”

“Really, it isn’t. You’re doing me a favor by getting it out of my parking lot.” He let a small smile cross his lips. “Besides, I’ve already put the title in your name. You have to take it. And, I’ll make sure the rental car is returned.”

---

John and Dirk stopped by the mailbox on their way up to their apartment to get lunch. They put their boards away, showered and changed and then sat on the couch to go through it. Magazines and catalogs in one pile, junk in another, and bills tossed behind Dirk to the floor, where he’d go through them later, since he paid all the utilities.

“Look at this,” Dirk said, handing Spike a thick, official looking envelope from the City Courthouse of Redondo Beach. “I got one too.”

Alarmed, they glanced at each other and then tore their envelopes open, both breathing a sigh of relief when they read it. The assault and disorderly conduct charges from their bar fight had been dropped. John’s eyes were drawn to the sentence after that notice, which said that bail money had been refunded back to Angel Investigations and listed an address for a hotel in Los Angeles.

“I’m stoked, man! No court appearance necessary,” Dirk stated.

John got up and put his letter in the catchall drawer to his desk in his room. When he came back out, Dirk was getting out the ingredients for roast beef sandwiches. John squeezed into the small space and got a bag of chips out.

“So,” Dirk said, feeling conversational. “Are you doing anything with Buffy tonight?”

“She wasn’t sure how long she’d be at her appointment, so no plans for tonight. I need to buckle down and get at least two more chapters written before tomorrow if I’m going to stay on schedule to make my deadline.” John pulled out a couple of cans of soda from the fridge. “I’m locking myself up in my room with the do not disturb sign up as soon as we eat.” He set the things down at the table and sat, waiting patiently for his sandwich. “But my royalty check should have been deposited today. Buffy and I have a date tomorrow for dinner and a movie.”

Popping a wedge of tomato in his mouth, Dirk asked, “Do you think you’ll stay at her place tomorrow night?”

Dirk brought the sandwiches to the table and sat across from John.

John chuckled. “Why do you care if I stay overnight or not?”

“Don’t really. It’s just that if you are going to be away, I was thinking of inviting a lady friend over myself.”

“You’ve been holding out on me?” John grinned at his friend before taking a small bite. He chewed, swallowed and chased it down with a swig of Pepsi. “Who’s the lucky bird?”

Dirk shrugged. “Don’t want to say yet, just in case it doesn’t work out.”

John watched his friend carefully. There was clearly another reason he didn’t want to say, but he wouldn’t push him. They didn’t do that to each other. It was amusing and John thought maybe he was embarrassed over his newest crush. Perhaps it was one of the college students who rented across the hall from them. They seemed like nice girls, but they were very serious types and Dirk had poked fun at them a time or two when they’d been in the hall together.

“I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be staying with Buffy tomorrow night. Feel free to invite someone over.”

The sun was almost directly over their heads. Buffy straddled her borrowed surfboard next to John and tried her best to relax the way he was as they waited out a lull in the wave sets. She was sure her sun block had worn off, she couldn’t stop imagining that sharks were circling them and she fought the urge to put her feet on the board and out of the water.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s just… Are you sure there’s no danger of sharks?”

“I swear, I’m going to kill Dirk!” John said, though he couldn’t hide his grin.

Yesterday, she had talked John into giving her surfing lessons. Dirk wanted in on the action, excited enough about helping to teach someone the sport he loved that he opted to forgo his usual afternoon nap to help. John had wanted to wait until later in the day when there would be fewer surfers out and the waves would be smaller.

After a quick lesson on the sand on how to stand on the board, the three of them had gone out. She caught on quickly and had been able to stay on the board for a few seconds at a time. While they waited for another set, Dirk decided to initiate Buffy into the surfer world the way he did every new surfer he went out with. When she wasn’t paying attention, Dirk had quietly gone under water and had grabbed her leg.

“I was worried about sharks before Dirk pulled that stunt.”

“Yeah, but now you can’t stop thinking about it. Fear and surfing do not mix.”

“Have there been a lot of shark attacks at this beach?” Buffy asked, putting one leg on the board.

“No. In fact the only Shark Attack I know of is the shop on the pier with that name.”

Always up for a little shopping, Buffy glanced over in the direction of the pier with interest. “What kind of store is it?”

“They’ve got some interesting displays, the great white shark being the main attraction, and they have a lot of souvenirs.” He leaned over his board and gave her a quick kiss. “You’ve never been to the pier, have you?”

“Not yet,” she said cheerfully. “But if there are shops involved, I’d love to check it out.”

“Why don’t we do that today when we’re done here? You can shop to your heart’s content and I’ll tag along to hold your bags. Then we can have dinner at Old Tony’s. They’ve got the best seafood around.”

“That sounds great.” If it weren’t for the work outs, the surfing and the rigorous late nights they’d had for the past week and a half, Buffy would be concerned about getting fat. “You’ve really been spoiling me. I think we’ve eaten out almost every night.”

He shrugged. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She smiled, her heart swelling to hear him say it again.

“My girlfriend deserves to be spoiled, and I love taking you out.”

They sat bobbing up and down in the water for a few seconds. Buffy glanced back and saw only flat ocean.

“Don’t you get bored when you’re waiting for the waves out here alone?”

“Not at all.” John languidly stretched his arms up and yawned. “Times like this probably saved me from the brink of insanity.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, when my therapist first suggested surfing, I’d been having a really tough time. Sodding crazy nightmares kept me up most of the night and there was this deep rage inside of me.” John looked off towards the sand as he talked. “An anger that frightened me because I had no idea where it came from. Maybe from not knowing who I was. And at other times, I had all this anxiety and even some irrational fears.”

Softly, she reached out to squeeze his hand. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I learned to manage it all. Coming out here, being one with nature and in a way conquering it when I rode a wave really helped with the anger. Especially in the lull between sets. I could meditate and think without other people bombarding me with questions and pitiful eyes. And to add to that, I poured all my fear and anxiety into my writing.”

She wanted to confide in him, the way he had with her. Tell him about coming back from the dead and how he had been her calm and retreat. Even if it had been an unhealthy relationship, she knew now how hard he’d tried to help her. To be there for her. But she couldn’t tell him about all that. How could she tell a human who had no memories of his supernatural past about witches powerful enough to resurrect a dead slayer who in turn had found solace in the arms of a soulless vampire?

When she felt the current under her and they began to rise, Buffy glanced at John, waiting for his signal. He nodded and then both went on their stomachs across their boards.

“Let’s take this set in and get ready for our date,” he said before they raced to catch the wave.

---

The elevator stopped on the second floor. John held the door open with his back and pulled Buffy to him. He gave her a long, sensual kiss, hating the idea of being apart from her even long enough to change and shower in his own apartment.

“I’ll come up in about forty-five minutes,” he told her, stepping out into the hall.

“Make it an hour.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Gotta give a girl time to get pretty.”

“You don’t even need ten minutes for that,” he said as the doors closed between them.

With a spring in his step and a silly grin on his face, he strolled to his apartment, only to have the grin wiped off his face when he saw Dirk’s guest sitting on his couch.

“Misty,” John said, as he glanced around looking for Dirk, who was nowhere in sight. “I see you’re still leading Dirk on.”

The redhead ran her hand over the top of the couch. “I told you, John, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m totally into Dirk.”

He rolled his eyes and headed for his room. Dirk came out of the bathroom, greeted him and then headed for the living room to hang out with his girlfriend. In the safety of his room, John tried to calm down. That bitch was messing with his friend’s head and though he’d tried to warn Dirk, the surfer seemed oblivious to her transparent motives.

Misty was the one Dirk had wanted to have over to the apartment. John had found out a few days ago. He’d been sleeping over at Buffy’s every night, but that night, they’d had their first fight and he’d opted to sleep alone. Buffy had offered to drive her car up the coast, earlier that day, to take him to an interview he had for the calendar section of the Times. When he saw the black Lexus with tan leather seats, he asked where her little blue rental had gone.

She hesitantly told him that Angel had given her the car. Jealousy had instantly reared up, but he did his best to push it aside. He’d been rather quiet on the drive to the interview and also when they stopped for dinner later. After ordering, she couldn’t take the silent treatment anymore and she’d confronted him. “John, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Tell me,” she insisted over the restaurant table.

“It’s just—I don’t get how you could accept such an expensive gift from an ex-boyfriend.”

Her jaw dropped and she frowned at him. “That’s what’s been bothering you this whole time?”

He nodded, knowing he seemed small-minded and feeling really stupid about it. Buffy took a drink of her soda and he watched her mouth close around the straw. Even when he was irritated with her, John couldn’t help but admire her.

“Angel didn’t buy that car for me. He bought it for one of his employees, but she had a hard time learning to drive and it was just sitting there never used. He knew I was renting a car and thought he could help me save money for my employer by giving me the car.”

He kept quiet about it while they ate, but he still couldn’t shake the irrational jealousy. On the drive back home, she pushed and prodded to get him to talk and they’d ended up having a yelling match as they pulled into their parking lot. She grumbled about nothing ever changing and complained about not wanting to put up with his jealousy.

He went on the defensive, yelling back that she’d never given him any reason to be jealous before and that she was insane for saying that he had been jealous in the past. Frustrated and confused, he’d gotten out of the car, slammed the door and went straight to his own apartment, only to find Dirk naked on the living room floor with Misty dressed in a negligee on top of him. Dirk had been genuinely concerned about getting caught like they were, but Misty just stared at him smugly.

He knew instantly what she was up to--trying to get back at him for dumping her by going after his best friend to cause them trouble and, at the same time, she wanted to make him jealous. In her screwed up mind, she probably thought that would wake John up and have him begging her to come back to him.

Being confronted with the stupidity that was his ex-girlfriend, he’d lain awake all night while Misty moaned loudly as they continued what they were doing in Dirk’s bedroom. It did not stir up an ounce of jealousy in him. It only made him think less of her. She’d never been loud during sex and he knew it was a blatant attempt to make him think of what he was missing. Instead, it only highlighted how stupid he’d been with Buffy, a woman with strength and class. And it proved how strongly he felt for Buffy if he could get jealous of a man he barely knew when he couldn’t care less if his best friend was shagging his ex.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was in love with Buffy. Love made people do crazy things. And a woman as amazing as his girlfriend was not worth losing over petty jealously. She insisted that Angel was in her distant past and that they were only working friends. If John loved Buffy, he should trust her. And tossing and turning that night, he realized that he did.

He’d come crawling to her, begging forgiveness the next morning and she seemed relieved, even telling him that the car meant nothing to her and that she’d give it back if he wanted. He told her not to do that, just because he was being a stupid fool. The make-up sex had been epic and he’d never felt as close to anyone as he felt to her, as far he could remember.

As he got ready for another great date with the woman he loved, he tried to push all the unpleasant thoughts about jealousy and stupid ex-girlfriend’s out of his mind. He had a lot to be grateful for and he was more determined than ever not to mess things up with Buffy.

Because she was the one.

The hot water bubbled up around Buffy and John in the Jacuzzi as they sat, relaxing, on opposite sides of the tub. The glowing candles, the bottle of chilled champagne and two half-filled flutes completed the romantic scene. They’d already made love right after dinner and now they were simply enjoying each other’s company. John was in a great mood for all of those reasons, and to top it off, Gage had called a little while ago to let him know that the partial manuscript for book three had been enthusiastically approved by his editor at the publishing house.

He lifted her foot out of the water and massaged the arch. “You have beautiful feet.”

“Mm, that feels wonderful.” She slid down in the water to bring her foot closer.

Buffy grabbed his left foot and massaged it under the water. It thrilled her when John closed his eyes and lost himself to the pleasure she was giving him. She shifted slightly and reached for her champagne flute. The bubbles tickled her nose and then her throat as she drank a healthy amount, almost draining the glass.

“Would you like me to fill it up again for you, love?”

“Nope.” She grinned at him. “One glass and I’m already feeling a buzz.” She sat up and fanned herself.

“You’re getting overheated.” Concerned, he sat up and frowned. “Let’s go sit on the balcony where it’s cooler.”

They got out of the deep tub; he helped her wrap a towel around her torso and then wrapped one around his hips. Turning lights off as they went, John and Buffy stepped out onto the dark balcony and stared out at the ocean, letting the cool breeze chill their still damp skin.

He put his arm around her. “This is nice.” Suddenly, he pointed out at the sand. “Do you see that couple walking out there?”

“Where?” They shuffled closer to the rail and she directed her gaze where he pointed. “The couple holding hands?”

He nodded, turned to face her and put his arms around her waist. His expressive eyes took her in all at once. “I used to see couples like that and mock them. Used to call them stupid wankers or poor sods, but since I met you, I’ve found myself being happy for everybody else. The world is no longer a bleak place, and I want everyone to feel as complete and content as I do now.”

As intense as he was, she forced herself to face him and not hide her feelings from him the way she would have in the past. “I feel the same way.”

Pulling her close, John hugged her and rubbed her towel covered back. He let her go and played with the knot on the towel at her breast. Buffy tilted her head and studied his features. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed; he looked serious.

“I know we haven’t known each other that long, just a few weeks.” He paused, running a hand through hair and gently combing through the damp ends. “It feels like I’ve known you forever. Like my heart has always known you. I hope I don’t scare you off, but I can’t keep it in any longer.” John gazed into her eyes and said simply in his deep voice, “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

With an intake of breath, she gripped his forearms to steady herself. “Me too.” She said the words in a rush and then closed her eyes to center herself. When she opened them, he was staring at her in wonder. Buffy ordered herself to calm down. “What I mean is that I’m in love with you too.”

John lifted her up off the balcony floor and kissed her hard. Her elation and his antics had her laughing.

“It’s very hard to kiss you when you’re laughing,” he complained, but with a dazzling smile.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said through her giddiness, her eyes starting to mist up. “I’m just so happy.”

She jumped at him, hugging him with all her might and cutting off his air supply.

“I need to breathe, Summers,” he croaked.

“Oops!”

As soon as she released him, he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the bedroom.

---

Buffy pushed her shopping cart down the bread aisle, a small contented smile on her lips, as she paused here and there to choose a couple of types of rolls. The luxury of being able to take her time in a grocery store was foreign to her. Over the years, she’d had other people do it for her, or she’d run in, grab what she needed and get out. Now, she took her time choosing the perfect ingredients for the meal she’d been promising John for a couple of weeks. Her smile widened when she thought of him. He’d probably already let himself in her apartment with the key she’d given him a couple of days ago.

Glancing down at her list, which had check marks next to the things she’d already placed in her cart, she felt really domestic. And it wasn’t a bad feeling, that warm gushiness in the pit of her stomach. It was the kind of emotion she would have sworn she didn’t care about having. Not until she’d found Spike--John. Not until she’d fallen in love with him this second time. Thanks to him, the last three weeks had been the most stress free and happy of her life. The only thing that would have made it perfect was if there were no secrets between them. But she couldn’t do that to him - take away his only known existence and plunge him into the supernatural world.

She didn’t want to think of unpleasant things. Instead, she thought of tonight. It was exciting to plan and prepare to make a meal for him. And it was sad that she had to be in her mid-twenties before she’d ever felt this way.

“Well, well,” Misty said as Buffy turned the corner and into the next aisle. “If it isn’t Little Miss Perfect.”

“Huh?” Buffy glanced behind her to make sure Misty wasn’t talking to someone else.

Misty tossed a can of diced tomatoes into her own cart and sneered at Buffy. “You do know that he’s going to drop you like a bad habit very soon, don’t you?”

Buffy couldn’t help but chuckle. This thing thought she was hot stuff, but Buffy had survived the caustic tongue of Cordelia Chase and compared to her, Misty was just a gnat hitting a windshield.

Puffing herself up with importance, Misty glared at Buffy. “No, really. As long as I’ve known John, the only girl he dated for more than a month was me.” Misty smiled, showing off her perfect porcelain veneers. “I give you less than a week and then it will be ‘buh-bye’ for you.”

Buffy shook her head and watched Misty walk past as the redhead repeatedly mouthed goodbye to her and waved like a parade queen. And she thought Spike had had issues with taking no for an answer. With a giggle, Buffy consulted her list again and resumed the shopping.

---

With his laptop perched on his thighs and his bare feet on the coffee table, John sat back on Buffy’s couch and put his glasses on while the computer booted up. He knew Buffy was probably still out running errands, but she’d promised to make dinner for him tonight and had told him to let himself in if he got back from his meeting before she got home.

He’d taken off the bloody stupid loafers, the black dress socks and the horrid tie, but he didn’t bother changing out of the grey slacks and light blue dress shirt. If Buffy was going through all the trouble to make him a nice meal, the least he could do was dress up for it.

John took a deep breath and opened his file for the third book. He only had two more chapters to write and then he’d have to buckle down with the boring work of editing. Even that thought couldn’t discourage him from writing, because his meeting with Gage and the marketing department of the publisher had gone well. That always lit a fire under him, to hear good news about his work. Visits to his website were way up, pre-orders for his sequel to Stalking Summer were going through the roof and they had a solid plan for appearances and book signings. The only thing they encouraged him to do was to update the blog on his website once a week instead of once a month.

Focusing, he scrolled down his manuscript file, skimming the last bits he’d written and then he began tapping away, filling the blank space on his screen with inspired words. He’d been at it for thirty minutes when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He looked up and blinked. The room had grown dimmer, but not enough to warrant turning on lights yet. The sun was low enough that he could see it out the open balcony doors.

The person knocked again. He grinned as he gingerly set his laptop on the coffee table, closed it and nudged his glasses back closer to his face. Three long strides and he reached the door. Opening it wide he said, “Hands too full to use your key, huh?”

But it wasn’t Buffy at the door. A tall brunette with big blue eyes and long brown hair consulted the sticky note in her hand.

“Um, I think I have the wrong apartment.”

“Who were you looking for?” he asked, grinning at her confused gaze as she continued to frown at her note.

“My sister, Buffy Summers.”

“Then you have the right place.” John stepped out of the way of the door, searching his memory if Buffy had mentioned that the sister that she spoke of so fondly would be stopping by tonight. He thought she lived in London. “She’s running errands right now, but she should be back any minute. Come on in.”

The woman stepped inside and took in the room, heading towards the dining table and kitchen as John turned his back on her to shut the door.

“Wow. When I go on vacation, the Council never springs for a place like this for me.” Her cell phone rang and she frantically dug in her purse for it. “Sorry, just a minute.” She glanced at the caller ID and rolled her eyes. “The boss. He can wait.” And the phone was unceremoniously dumped back into her purse. She looked at John straight on for the first time since he’d opened the door. “I’m Dawn.” She paused awkwardly and when he just smiled at her she asked, “So, who are you?”

He liked this girl immediately and it was obvious that she was Buffy’s sister. He walked to her with his hand outstretched. “I’m Buffy’s boyfriend.”

She shook his hand, and he suddenly felt self-conscious. Dawn was looking at him funny. He wondered if he had something on his face. Or maybe she found him lacking in some way. He backed away from her when she started hyperventilating.

“Oh my God! Oh, my, God!” she exclaimed, fanning herself. “Is it really you?”

She went very still and John took another step away from her, not understanding her reaction to him at all. Buffy’s little sister seemed to think she knew who he was. He was utterly confused and yet, her reaction to him was connecting with those little nagging doubts he’d been having.

Dawn started babbling as she shook her hand in his direction, her voice going up an octave with every word. “I mean, the hair, the glasses and…the clothes! I didn’t recognize you at first.”

She shocked the hell out of him when, without warning, she launched herself at him and gave him a big hug. John had no idea what to do with his hands. He gently patted her shoulder, until she took a step back.

“I’m confused,” John finally said, now that he could get a word in. “Have we met before?”

He was taken aback by the tears streaming down her face. She shook her head. “Don’t tease me, Spike. Not now at least. Later you can tease me all you want, but let me get used to the idea that you’re alive first, okay?”

It was as if John had been hit with a brick. Buffy’s sister knew him? Thought he’d been dead? He opened his mouth to speak, but Dawn cut him off. “God! I’m going to kill Buffy!” Her phone started ringing again. She angrily wiped the tears away and spoke while she grabbed the phone and checked to see who was calling. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me--and Giles! He had to know about you.” The phone continued to ring. “That’s why he didn’t want me to come to L.A. So much for me surprising my sister.” She glanced up at him, her expression changing from angry to a soft smile. “Gotta take this.”

John just stood there, watching her, trying to move all the pieces of what she’d said into an order that made some kind of sense to him. But he was distracted by her conversation.

“Vi? No, not really.” She sighed with impatience. “Where are you guys? Wait. The phone signal is breaking up.” She glanced at the open balcony door. “I’m inside, let me get outside and then tell me.” She headed for the open doors, but turned and pointed at John. “You! Don’t go anywhere.”

Then she quickly stepped outside, into the warm waning sun, her hair blowing back with the strong breeze. John threw his hands up in the air. She couldn’t just babble on like that and then leave him standing there. With purpose, he took long strides and walked out onto the balcony. Her back was to him. John caught her conversation in mid-sentence.

“…Spike. Did you know he was alive?” Dawn held the phone from her ear and a strange squealing sound came out of it. Then she put it back to her ear. “I’ll take that as a no. I’m glad, because if one of my slayers knew before I did…” She let the sentence hang menacingly. Dawn was quiet as she listened to the other person on the line and then she said, “I see. I can’t get a break, can I? Why couldn’t I have even an hour off the plane before all hell starts breaking loose? No, don’t do anything until I get there. We need it to be conscious so I can interrogate it. Just keep it contained. I will get there as soon as I can. I’m thinking it will take me maybe thirty minutes.”

Dawn shut her phone and spun on her heels, only to stop short and let out a loud gasp. And then she was flying at him again. Not to hug him this time. She charged at him like a linebacker, slamming into him and propelling him into the apartment where he fell back and hit the dining room table.

“Are you crazy?” she said in a high-pitched screech.

“I should ask you the same thing! What the hell is going on?” John rubbed his back, glaring at the woman. Buffy’s sister or not, this one was completely off her bird. “And don’t come any closer.”

“What were you trying to do, fry yourself a second time? Or have you forgotten that vampires burst into flames and turn to dust when in direct sunlight!”

“Vampires?”

Dawn just stared at him, her large eyes wide, still in shock. “I’m a watcher now. I know you don’t have much respect for the job title, but… Shit, I have to go.” She grabbed her purse off the table and then gave him another hug. “Tell Buffy I was here and that we are going to have a serious talk.” Scowling, she shook her head. “I bet Angel knew about you being alive. I bet he’s been keeping us in the dark and Buffy found out. That’s how she found you, right?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “I’m going to kill him.”

Speechless and trying to process her words about Angel knowing him, he watched as she grabbed a pencil off the breakfast bar and wrote something down on the note pad there.

“This is my cell phone number. Call me in a few hours and we can talk. Vi and Sharelle have a Zipverne demon cornered in a basement and I don’t know how long they’ll be able to keep it contained.”

John clutched the piece of paper in his hand and watched, dumbfounded, as she threw the front door open and ran out. Slowly, he made his way to the bedroom and in a trance-like state, he put his socks and shoes on. He put his laptop back in its case and left Buffy’s apartment. On the way to his own apartment, he tried to suss out what just happened. Dawn. Buffy’s sister knew him. Thought he was a vampire. A vampire?

Either the girl had just escaped a mental hospital or…or he didn’t know what.

A sharp pain in his head had him closing his eyes in the elevator. He could see a younger version of Dawn sitting on a stone slab of some kind in a dark room with only a candle to light up her face. She was staring at him in awe, listening with rapt attention as he told her a tale. He had black nail polish on. The same boots that he had on when he’d been found were on his feet.

The elevator dinged and opened to his floor. He stepped into the hall and blinked slowly. Dawn was telling the truth. She did know him. She’d called him Spike. And Angel, Buffy’s ex-boyfriend, knew him somehow? A rush of adrenaline suddenly coursed through his veins. There was an answer to his past. He frowned as he entered the apartment. Buffy knew who he was all this time and she’d lied to him. Over and over again.

“Uh, oh,” Dirk said. “You two have a fight again?”

Barely acknowledging his friend, he blew by him. “Not now, Dirk.” John slammed his bedroom door shut behind him. He paced his room, running his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself. There had been answers right at his fingertips for weeks and she’d refused to give them to him! Well, he was going to get answers.

He checked to make sure his car keys were still in his pocket and then he opened the drawer in his desk. The letter from the city was still where he’d left it. He couldn’t trust Buffy to tell him the truth, but he could confront Angel and if the man refused to give him answers, at least he could beat him. He knew he wasn’t a vampire, of all the stupid things, but by the end of this night, John was determined that he would know something about who he had been before he’d lost his memories. With trembling hands, he fumbled with his laptop bag, turned the computer on and looked up the directions to the Hyperion Hotel in Los Angeles.

On the drive over, he tapped the wheel impatiently as traffic snarled to a snail’s pace. He felt bad now for brushing off Dirk the way he had. He’d refused to tell Dirk what was going on or even let him know where he was going. He’d have to buy the man a beer tomorrow afternoon to make up for it. Dirk had enrolled in surf therapy just days after he had. The expert surfer had correctly guessed that the familiar activity would help keep him off drugs after getting out of rehab. They’d quickly become friends and Dirk had been the one friend he could count on the last couple of years. It was wrong to keep him in the dark, but how did he tell his buddy that some chick thought John was a vampire and that his girlfriend had been keeping big secrets from him?

Out of nowhere, a flash of a memory pierced John’s brain again. He lost his grip on the wheel, but recovered quickly, swerving back into his lane before he crashed. It wasn’t much. Just a snippet of time. He was standing before a long-haired version of Angel who wore a shirt similar to the ones the Renaissance Fair people wore. They both had their arm stretched straight out and pointing towards a window. White smoke was rising from their hands as Angel smirked at him.

He slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of him. Once his heart stopped racing, he tried to focus, to bring back the memory. It was no use; the moment was gone.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

He drove the off-ramp and took his lefts and rights until he found himself in a dark and rather deserted part of the city. Something told him that he wasn’t far from where he’d been found passed out all those years ago. He couldn’t be too sure as he’d only been to the location with his therapist, Dr. Bell, once.

Pulling up to the front of the hotel, John let his Jetta crawl to a stop just past the building. He got out and leaned against the trunk with his hands in his pockets. He reached deep inside of himself, hoping that the building would have a familiar air to it, but he felt nothing. It wasn’t doing him any good to just stand there.

He cautiously approached the shiny glass doors and peered inside. One small light illuminated the front desk and a window to an office with the blinds drawn was yellow with light as well. There didn’t seem to be anyone around and he was expecting the doors to be locked. Instead, they opened smoothly and he slipped inside.

Not knowing what to do next, John stood in the middle of the lobby and waited, listening for any sounds to indicate that people might be about. The only sound in the big space was the ticking of a cheap wall clock behind the service counter. He approached it and searched for a bell to ring. It was eerie to be standing in such a big building with no one else around. Sort of like being in the Twilight Zone.

The sound of a chair scraping against tile reached his ears. He turned towards the noise in time to see Angel walk out of the office. Angel started.

“Spike—I mean, John? What are you doing here?”

He suddenly found his voice. “Exactly!” John pointed a finger at him. “You called me Spike just now. Was that my name?”

“Wha—I don’t know what you mean.”

Angel backed into his office, but John followed him, shutting the door behind him as the bigger man picked up his phone.

“We should call Buffy and let her know you’re here.”

Getting more angry by the second, John stomped over to the desk and slammed his hand down on the base of the phone, severing the connection.

“No. I don’t want to talk to Buffy. I want you to tell me who I am.”

With a sigh of resignation, Angel let the phone rest on the desk. John quickly picked it up and placed it back in its cradle.

“Your name is William,” Angel softly said. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

John sat down, leaning forward in the chair and scowled. “Last name?”

“Pratt.”

“William Pratt,” John said, trying it out. It didn’t feel like his name. “Why did you call me Spike out there and why did Buffy’s little sister call me Spike?”

“Dawn is here already?”

John narrowed his eyes. “Just answer my question.”

“Spike was your nickname.”

“I used to wear a long leather coat,” John said, more to himself.

“Yes, you did. You were really attached to that old thing.”

“It’s hanging up in my closest at home right now. I was wearing it when they found me.” When Angel just leaned back and twiddled his thumbs nervously, John said, “Tell me about Spike. Who was I?”

“You were a pain in the ass, you were family and on rare occasions that last year, you were my friend.”

---

Buffy juggled the five plastic grocery bags as best she could and put her key in the door.

“John!”

She paused inside and glanced around the dark room, knowing right away that something was wrong. The curtain to the sliding glass door to the balcony waved in the wind as a cool off-shore breeze blew in. She set the bags down and reached for the light switch on the wall.

“John?” She called out, even though it was clear that he wasn’t there.

Quickly, she picked up the bags and set them on a counter in the kitchen, headed for the bedroom and turned the light on there. Her bedcover was rumpled slightly at the foot of the bed and one of John’s ties hung off the edge. She picked it up, running it through her fingers. Nothing else seemed out of place.

Back in the kitchen, she noticed the red light on her phone blinking. Buffy dialed voicemail and put it on speakerphone as she nervously put her purchases away.

“Yeah, Buffy? This is Dirk. Is John with you? He was acting kinda weird and I don’t know where he went. You guys have a fight or something? His cell phone goes right to voicemail. Call me when you get this message.”

“End of messages,” the cheerful automated voice said.

More worried now than ever, Buffy frantically searched the apartment for a note. Too impatient to make a phone call, she pulled the balcony door shut, grabbed her keys off the table by the door and with her heart pounding she headed for John’s apartment. She hoped he was there now, but if not, Dirk was the last one to see him.

Misty answered the door and let her in, the redhead’s smug grin not improving Buffy’s mood one bit. She saw Dirk in the kitchen, washing dishes.

“Is John here?”

Dirk shook his head while he dried his hands on a towel. “He hasn’t come back since he stormed out of here about forty-five minutes ago.”

“And he didn’t tell you where he was going?” Buffy asked, wishing that Misty wasn’t standing right behind her.

“No. I asked him if you two had a fight, but he pretty much ignored me.”

“We didn’t have a fight. I was running errands and when I got home, the place was dark. I know he stopped by though. He left his tie on my bed.”

Dirk leaned a hand on the dining room table, pausing to think. “God, I hope they didn’t cancel his contract or something. The second book is printed already and set for release.”

“It’s obvious,” Misty said. “It’s like I was saying, he gets bored with a girl. He just wants out of the relationship and he’s taken off until you get the picture.”

Buffy didn’t want to believe that. John loved her. She looked to Dirk who was shaking his head. “No way. He’s totally into Buffy. There’s definitely something wrong though. When he left, he looked like he’d trashed his last surfboard. He was totally bummed.”

John made a feeble attempt at pacing the tiny office floor. His agitation was so great that if he didn’t keep moving, he knew he’d end up smashing things.

“So we’re blood relatives?” he said, finally looking at Angel, who nodded, but would not elaborate, just like the last two times he’d brought the family thing up. “And, we worked together to keep the city of Los Angeles safe for a year before the riots?”

Another infuriating nod from Angel.

“We did a bang up job of that, didn’t we?” John said humorlessly. “Whole sodding city went to hell. Two years have passed and people are just starting to move back in.”

“You did all that you could, Spike.” Angel frowned, rubbing his eyes.

John whipped his head about to glare at Angel. “Spike? It’s just so strange. I can’t remember…” He looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a couple of flashbacks. They last a few seconds and then they’re gone. But in one, you had long hair and you were wearing this…costume. A white poufy shirt.”

Angel suddenly got to his feet. “Um, see there’s more to your story—”

“The other flashback…” John said, running a hand through his hair. “No wonder the girl was babbling on about vampires. I must have told Buffy’s sister a lot of tall tales when she was young. I must have been a damn good liar.”

Angel let out a small laugh and John glared at him. “What?”

“It’s just that of all the things you ever were, a good liar wasn’t one of them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John ground out.

“See, the thing is, Dawn was telling you the truth.” John just stared at him blankly, so Angel plowed ahead. “You were a vampire.”

“Bollocks! What kind of racket are you trying to pull, messing with an amnesiac’s head like that?”

They both faced the office door when they heard noise in the lobby. John got to the door first, but Angel wasn’t far behind. Dawn was in the lobby laughing with two other girls. One a skinny redhead with a bob cut, the other a dark skinned girl with long tight braids.

Dawn’s eyes lit up, but before she could speak, the redhead jumped and squeaked. “Spike! It is you.” The lobby went silent as the girl timidly came forward with a hand out. “I want to shake your hand.”

Confused and wary, he obliged her and looked down in awe at the strength the tiny hand possessed. “I’m so glad to know you made it. Thank you for saving the world. You were the first vampire I ever met and the best damn one I’ve ever known.”

“Vampire?” he said when he found his voice.

Angel stepped in. “He doesn’t know. He has amnesia.”

“What the hell?” Dawn said. She got right in front of him, looking him over. “Amnesia? A vampire with amnesia?”

“He’s human now,” Angel said.

John turned to him, incredulous. “Now? You people are insane. There is no such thing as vampires! What the hell do you take me—”

Fed up, Angel morphed into his demon and bared his fangs. John stumbled back, tripping on the lobby couch and landing hard on the floor. Dawn reached for him, but he smacked her hand away.

Dawn was staring at Angel in shock. “The Shanshu?”

With face still contorted and eyes still yellow, Angel said, “Yes. The prophecy was fulfilled.”

---

John woke up to a room filled with the sun’s rays. He sat up and brushed out his wrinkled clothes. The longest night in his life. The craziest.

Once everyone had calmed down, Angel had invited them all up to his room. Sharelle, John later found out, he’d never met before. But she stayed in the room all night, listening to a vampire’s tale with the same rapt attention as John. He glanced over at his laptop case resting on the dresser, relieved to see it still there. He’d gotten it out of his car when they’d first begun and he’d used his notes tape recorder to record their memories. Memories of him that he didn’t know if he’d ever get back.

This was the stuff of books and movies. The kind of stuff he couldn’t have made up if he’d tried. He’d been a vampire, turned in the 1800s. No wonder Angel hadn’t wanted to elaborate on their family tie. The man was sort of like a grandfather, though Angel’s jaw had clenched when John had said as much.

Spike had been evil. William the Bloody. The twisted, convoluted tale that turned him into a white hat was still not lined up in his mind and he had a strong feeling that some things had been left out of the telling.

And Buffy.

John leaned back, resting his head on the pillow again. He’d wanted to kill her? Had killed many people before her and two just like her. Slayers. Like Vi and Sharelle. But he’d ended up in love with Buffy. Dawn insisted it was love; Angel argued that it was just a criminal obsession.

He could only guess that it had been love. He loved her now, even though she’d lied to him.

Quickly sitting up and then standing, he busied himself, slipping his shoes on and gathering his keys and laptop bag. He couldn’t think about her. Not now. Not when she had known, had the pieces to his puzzle and could have put them all in order, but she had refused to do so. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he couldn’t stay in the hotel any longer. If he was going to clear his head and let this all sink in, he needed to be alone. He did one more check of the room and went into the hall.

“There you are,” Dawn said, cheerfully. “I still can’t get over the new look.”

Last night, Dawn had told him how at fifteen, she’d developed a big crush on what she described as a bad-ass vampire with platinum blond hair and leather. It was a little weird to know this woman had once had a crush on him, or that he’d had such a different style back then.

“This is my business meeting outfit. I’m usually in shorts and a t-shirt.”

Dawn still stared at him curiously. “And the tan. It looks really good on you.”

“Er, thanks…I guess.”

“Where are the glasses?” She smiled and waved at her own face.

“Don’t wear them all the time.”

“Does Buffy like them?”

Perhaps Dawn thought she was being clever and not obvious, but he wasn’t ready to talk to or about Buffy.

“Don’t know, really. She’s never said either way.”

He headed for the stairs to the lobby and Dawn walked with him.

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell you about your past. I mean, I get that she might have wanted you to have a normal life, but why try to meet you if that was the case?” Dawn stopped him before he could go down the stairs. “I haven’t talked to Buffy yet, but sometimes she does things that she thinks are right, because she talks herself into thinking that what’s best for her is right. It’s a flaw, but Buffy is a good person.”

Deciphering Dawn’s hot and cold thoughts on her big sister was too much of a brain stretch after staying up all night and then not having any coffee in his system. He just nodded and stepped around her. She offered to make him breakfast, but he politely declined and only breathed a sigh of relief when he was in his car with the engine running.

Making his way out of the run-down city, he went through a drive thru to get breakfast and pulled into a parking space. While he drank his coffee, he turned on his phone, his heart pounding, knowing that Buffy would have tried to call. After the sixth voicemail from Dirk, John couldn’t help but smile. The smile quickly faded when he heard Buffy’s concerned voice.

“John? I’m worried about you. Please call me when you get this message, so I know that you’re okay. Not knowing is the worst.”

He pushed the number seven on the phone keypad to delete the message. Not knowing. Exactly. She’d known a lot of things, but she’d kept him in the dark. He’d loved her once and according to Dawn, he’d hopelessly chased after her. He’d fallen in love with her again, and while he knew that what he felt was real and that she was feeling it too, he couldn’t get past the lies.

Another voice came through for another recorded message.

“Hey, John. Yes, I have dollar signs in my eyes, but don’t judge me for it. Your success is my success and you’re riding quite a wave right now. When I told my wife that she could get the Mercedes, she was so happy she wanted me to invite you for dinner. Call me so we can set up a day.”

Here was someone he could count on. Gage never pretended to be anything but interested in his talent. They’d become friends in a professional sort of way, and sometimes, having someone tell him what to do next was the safest thing in the world. He hit speed dial two and waited for Gage to pick up.

The conversation was over quickly. Gage’s answer to hearing that John was having a hard time had been ‘say no more’. John’s heart still pounded in his chest as he took the elevator to his apartment. Would Buffy be camped out there? Would Dirk have let her in to wait on the couch? But he was worried for nothing. Dirk’s bedroom door was closed, which meant he was taking his normal daytime nap before he got ready for work.

John was quiet as he slipped into his own room and piled things haphazardly into his battered suitcase. On a whim, he grabbed the black leather coat that hung there in the garment bag, pushed by other clothes against the wall of the closet. There was no reason to worry Dirk, so he stopped in the kitchen and wrote his friend a quick note.

Dirk,

Sorry I was so crazed yesterday. I’m going on a little vacation. Will be back soon. Taking my board and not much else. Try to keep the place clean. Please. I’ll call you.

John

---

Apocalypses, big bads out to kill her, they had nothing on a boyfriend who just disappeared without warning. The scenarios for why he may have done it seemed to float around in her mind. None of them good. And suddenly, Buffy’s little vacation was no longer so pleasant. She was in love, and like every time she’d fallen in love, the rug had been pulled out from under her.

Where the hell is he?

She’d done something. What? She had no idea. John could have gotten his memories back. She stood up and paced her living room. If that had happened, would he hate her for not telling him who he was? She couldn’t imagine that. Spike had loved her unconditionally. John, without any memory of being Spike, had fallen in love with her.

She was going to go stir-crazy sitting around her apartment, but what if he called when she was out? What else did she have to do?

The phone rang and she jumped to answer it. Breathlessly, she said, “Hello? John?”

“Sorry, but no. It’s Dirk. I woke up and found a note on the table. John was here, but he’s gone again.”

“Oh, God. What did the note say?” Dread seeped into her bones. He’d been and gone and he didn’t try to call her or come by the apartment.

“Not much. Says he’s going on vacation but will be back soon. He took his board and some clothes. Says he’ll call me soon.” Dirk paused and then asked, “I guess he didn’t come to see you?”

“No.”

“It’s a little funny that he goes missing and Misty breaks it off with me. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I don’t either, but if he calls you will you tell him that I’m desperate to hear from him?” Buffy tried to keep her voice even. Whatever was going on between Misty and Dirk, she knew that John had not run off with the redhead. “Let him know that I love him.”

“Sure. Will do. I’ve got to be at Stranded in ten minutes, so I gotta let you go.”

Buffy hung up, feeling as if she’d been hit by a truck. Before she could sit down the phone rang again.

“John?”

“I can’t believe you lied to him.”

“Dawn?”

After speaking with Dawn, Buffy didn’t know if she should crawl into bed and stay there for weeks or go rushing off to find John. He knew. He’d been to see Angel and between the two of them, Dawn and Angel had filled him in on who he had been. Dawn thought he was fairly calm about it, but the fact that he left and hadn’t tried to get her side of the story spoke volumes.

He hated her.

Buffy mourned the loss of John’s innocence. The knowledge of another world existing had been the end of her oblivious life many years ago and so many times she’d longed to be a pre-teen again with only clothes and boys to worry about. She wanted to be angry at Dawn for taking that away from him, but she knew that it wasn’t her fault.

There was nothing she could do right then. As she prepared for bed, she wondered where John was. Was he thinking about her? By the time her head hit the pillow, Buffy was determined to take action the next day. She’d stood by and watched Angel walk out of her life, she hadn’t really cared enough to try to keep Riley in town, and worst of all, she’d stood by while the one who loved her more than anyone ever had burned up saving the world.

These last few weeks, she’d had a taste of what a second chance was like and she wasn’t going to stand by and let him slip away from her again. John—Spike--he was worth fighting for. Buffy allowed herself the liberty of smiling grimly as she turned the light off. Fighting was one thing she was good at.

The breeze off the ocean soothed John’s nerves. The conditions in Laguna were different from Redondo Beach, so he’d only spent a little time out with his board this morning, getting used to them and missing his surf buddy. Gage had a beautiful view of the ocean from his back yard though, and John rested on a deck chair with his laptop on his legs while he gazed out over the high bluff.

When Gage had invited John to crash at his place, he’d had no idea what he’d be in for. Dinner last night had been an aching reminder of how not normal he had been or might not ever be. The Michaels’ two little girls, nine and seven, had talked non-stop while Gage’s wife, Sandy, had served the meal. Gage had bragged about John and his accomplishments and the girls had asked him if would write something like Little House on the Prairie for them.

They’d given him his space after dinner and surprisingly, he’d gotten three chapters written, including the ending of his third book. It had helped to be able to ignore what was going on in his own reality and lose himself in a make-believe world. Even if he now knew his fiction was based, in a removed sort of way, on real life.

The drudgery of the editing process was getting to him now and when Gage’s girls came out to jump in the pool, he put away his work and watched them play. He wondered if he’d killed little girls like them when he’d been Spike. Angel mentioned that his sire, the vampire that Angel claimed was the love of Spike’s existence, had a thing for little ones. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out his thoughts, but instead he got a flash of a hypnotically beautiful dark-haired woman who swayed as she stood before him.

Water hit him and he jumped up.

“Sorry, Mr. Price,” the younger girl, Kaylee, said meekly as she clutched a Super Soaker squirt gun.

“That’s alright, poppet. No harm done. Just aim it at your sister.”

He grinned at her and she turned the gun on Karianne who squealed and tried to get away. It wasn’t long before he was armed with his own squirt gun and it was two to one, with the little girls ganging up on him.

“Kay, Kari, time to get dried off and have lunch,” Sandy said from the sliding glass door.

The girls dropped their guns, grabbed their towels and ran into the house. After yelling after them to slow down, Sandy folded her arms across her chest and stared at John with a soft smile on her face.

“I know you came out here to get some peace and quiet, but thanks for keeping them occupied.”

“I enjoyed it,” he said with a shrug, before he gathered the guns and put them off to the side.

“You will make a great father one day.”

He turned to argue with her that he wouldn’t but she’d already gone in after her girls.

Hours later, John stood in front of the bathroom mirror with his shirt off, shaving before dinner. Slowly, he peeled away the white shaving cream and revealed his face. He couldn’t imagine being a monster, but the nickname Spike was starting to grow on him. Done, he patted some aftershave on and then dried his hands on a towel. He had a few minutes before dinner, so he headed for the guest bedroom and shut the door, locking it behind him.

Still shirtless, he sat with his legs crossed on the bed and pulled his bag close to him as he leaned back against the headboard. He chose a cassette tape, labeled Hyperion number three, popped it into his recorder, settled the headphones on his head and then closed his eyes with his fingers over the play and fast forward buttons.

He’d listened to the tape early in the morning, but he hoped that if he listened to it over and over, he’d start to have some memories.

Dawn’s voice filled his ears. “You were totally in love with her.”

Angel interrupted and said, “I don’t think so.”

“How would you know? You were already in L.A. by that time,” Dawn said and he could see her crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously. Every time I came to visit you in the crypt, all you would do was ask about Buffy. And when I told her that you had a thing for her, she acted like she was totally clueless about it.” Dawn laughed. “But I wasn’t stupid. I knew way back when you helped her to defeat Angelus that she sort of liked you.”

“What?” Angel said.

John could see how uncomfortable the vampire got when they talked about Angelus. Angel with a soul; Angelus without. John shook his head as he continued to listen.

“Don’t act all surprised,” Dawn said. “Buffy’s always had a thing for bad boys. Especially hot looking ones.”

Sharelle said, “Spike was kind of cute. No offense, man, but I’m not really getting the bad boy vibe from you.”

John remembered Dawn’s face at that moment. She’d gone all dreamy in remembrance. “He looked totally different back then. He used to bleach his hair very blond, he had this awesome black leather coat and he wore these dangerous looking boots. And he sneered a lot.”

Vi piped in. “Oh, yeah. And when I met him, Buffy was totally gaga over him. Most of the slayers were.”

Dawn had nudged Vi. “Don’t lie now, you thought he was hot too.”

Vi shivered. “True, but also really, very scary.”

John paused the tape and stared at himself in the mirror over the dresser. Wanting to see himself better, he got rid of the headphones, got to his feet and walked over to it. A sneer? Did he even know how to do one? He tried it, lifting one lip slightly and narrowing his eyes.

Not bad.

Then the effect was lost in his self-depreciating smile. He pulled his hair out of his face and tried a snarl out for size. Impressed by how scary he’d looked, he ran a finger over the scar across his eyebrow that Angel informed him he’d gotten while killing his first slayer. Of all the things he’d come up with for why he had the scar, a fight with a super hero had never even entered his mind. He let the hair drop back down and backed away from his image.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at his hands, flexing his fists repeatedly. He’d been a fighter. He’d fought Buffy. Suddenly, he felt a tingling in his scalp and closed his eyes. He could see her standing over him in a dark alley. Her gorgeous eyes blazing with indignation. Her voice angry, but controlled. Money floated all around him.

“You’re beneath me.”

A flash of light in his mind’s eye caused John to grip his head, but he kept his eyes closed. Buffy was standing before him in a bathroom, her chest rising and falling, anger and hurt written all over her face.

“Ask me again why I could never love you.”

John held his breath and fell back on the bed. It was dark, in his mind again, but her face glowed. A long, jagged and fresh cut was slashed across her forehead. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. Softly, she said, “I love you.”

A loud knock on the door had John sitting up as he was roughly dragged back to the present.

“John,” Gage yelled through the door. “Dinner is on the table.”

After hastily throwing a t-shirt over his head, John met the family at the dinner table. He tried to smile and nod when he felt it might be appropriate, but his mind was miles away or perhaps years. If he could listen to Angel, Dawn and Vi talk about Spike enough, maybe he’d start to really remember. The snippets of memories were like waving a chocolate bar in front of a kid’s nose and only giving him the wrapper with bits of shavings to lick off. He was hungry to know more.

As he stood later, washing the dishes, Gage came in. “John, leave that for the girls to do. I need to talk to you, out back.”

John followed him to the patio and waited while his agent closed the sliding glass door. Gage lit a cigarette and John exchanged places with him so he wasn’t down wind. Dawn had said that he’d smoked and drank like both were going out of style. He did neither now.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s been eating at you? And why you had to get away?”

What did he say to that? Gage was an open person, but he doubted very much that he’d believe in the vampire stuff, and John didn’t have the advantage that Angel did. He couldn’t twist his face into that of a monster to prove it.

“I’ve just started getting some memories back, is all.”

Gage dropped his cigarette and ignored it as he stared at John with surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He didn’t wait for John’s excuse. “I mean, the spin we could put on this! We could get you interviews with Oprah or Dr. Phil. You’d get so much publicity out of this—”

John shook his head. “I wasn’t a nice person, Gage. I don’t think you’d want this getting out, not unless you wanted to play damage control agent for months afterwards.”

“Sit,” Gage insisted, a scowl of determination crossing his features. Once they had taken a seat at the patio table with the umbrella up, Gage said, “What can you remember?”

“Not much. My name was Spike.”

“Spike?”

John nodded. “A nickname. I also know what my real name was, but I think it’s best if I don’t tell anyone.”

Gage’s eyes went wide. “You said you weren’t a nice person?”

“Exactly. And I don’t want to say any more about that.”

“Do you know who your family is?”

John thought of Angel. “Sort of. But I don’t remember my parents or very much at all.”

“Are you dangerous?”

“No. I’m totally harmless. I promise you that.” John stood, glanced down at his feet and ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll understand if you want me to go. Was planning on going home tomorrow, but I can get my stuff and leave now.”

Gage got up and slapped John on the back. “I trust you. If you say there is no danger, then that’s good enough for me. But what are you going to do now?”

John shrugged, but he couldn’t help but be relieved that his all business agent was taking the news so well. He really shouldn’t have expected less. Gage was steady as a rock.

“Nothing’s going to change. Some people might start calling me Spike. I wouldn’t mind that, but my legal name is John and I’m a writer. Still have a couple more Jake Gold and Summer Slater books to write.”

Gage visibly relaxed.

“Thank God. I was envisioning the nightmare of trying to get you out of that contract and forever being branded as the agent who couldn’t deliver.”

John shook his head, even as he grinned. “Wouldn’t do that to you, mate.”

---

“I’m going a little crazy here,” Buffy said to Dawn, who sat across from her at a little café off the Strand, nibbling on a sandwich as the sun was setting, splashing bright oranges and reds across the horizon.

“I wish I could help you, but he didn’t say where he was going. I asked, but he ignored me and just got in his car with the windows rolled up.”

“His roommate promised me that he’d leave a list of names and phone numbers of the people John knows.” Buffy took a drink of her soda and watched a large group of people on roller blades go by. “Dirk thinks I should just give him his space, but he has no idea what’s happened.”

“I wish you'd told Spike from the beginning, but I don’t know how you would have even convinced him. Angel had to vamp out in front of Spike to get him to believe.”

“I just wanted him to have the normal life that he earned,” Buffy said, staring off wistfully.

“Then why come out here and bother him, then?” Dawn said it matter-of-factly without accusation and Buffy was glad for that.

“Because I love him.” Buffy gripped her cup and tried to rein in her tumultuous emotions. “When I found out he was alive, I couldn’t stay away.”

Dawn tilted her head, studying her older sister intently. “You love Spike or the human he is now? Because there is a slight difference.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I love them both. They’re different and yet the same. What John is now was always hidden there in Spike. More so after he got his soul, but even before that, I caught glimpses of his humanity.”

“I can’t get over the fact that he’s a writer.” Shaking her head, Dawn grinned. “And a good one at that. I’m almost finished with the first book.”

A proud smile flitted across Buffy’s lips. “He is really good.” And then the smile was gone. “I wish he would talk to me.”

All too soon, Dawn had to leave. She’d sighed dramatically when her cell phone rang, and said that duty always called, but Buffy could tell that she was really loving the title of Watcher. Buffy walked back to her apartment building and tried not to let tears fall as she stood in the elevator and remembered the moments she and John had shared in it. She longed to be wrapped up in his arms.

Everything inside of Buffy screamed for her to take action. Find him, shake him, tell him that she loved him and demand that he forgive her for keeping secrets. But first, she had to do the finding part.

Stepping out of the elevator at her floor, she spotted the white folded paper wedged into her door and raced to it, hoping that John had come by. It turned out to be the list of contacts from Dirk. The list was shorter than she thought it would be, but it was a start. She smoothed out the creases in the paper, as she stared off into space. One of these people had to know where he was.

A number for Gage Michaels’ office. John’s doctor, Samuel Bell’s office. A cell phone number for his surfing instructor, Wally. The bouncer, Chet, he had a home number and a cell number for. Four names and phone numbers of women, which Buffy could only guess were ex-girlfriends because Misty was listed among them. And last was the number for the radio deejay that owned Stranded.

There was no way she was going to call Misty, but she picked up the phone and started dialing the others. Even though both the agent and the doctor’s offices were closed, she left long messages with more than one way to contact her. She knew she came across like a desperate girlfriend, but she was way beyond caring about that. Wally hadn’t seen nor heard from John, but he promised to call her if he did, even if, he’d teased, Buffy had dissed him in front of his friends.

The three girls on the list were all clueless, but Buffy had dug deep within herself to find the patience to deal with them. She was sure that each of them had faked writing down her information, but she didn’t care. She would bug them all tomorrow if she had to.

What she really wanted was for John to call her or show up at her door. She gazed at the phone, willing it to ring, but it continued to be silent.

“Please, John, don’t run from me.”

John quickened his steps when he heard another twig snap behind him. It was probably too late to think it, but walking in a cemetery at night was a dumb thing to do. And instinct told him that the only reason he knew he was being followed was because the creature hunting him wanted him to know it was there. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and while he now regretted this little field trip to get the feel of where he’d lived for years, he couldn’t deny that the rush of adrenaline was awesome.

It was almost like riding a wave that he knew was too large for his skill level and where the undertow was just as dangerous as the wave he rode. He’d been there many times. He’d put himself there on purpose. But here, in the dark, with dead people under his feet, there was no lifeguard to pull him out of danger. No surf buddy to watch his back and know when he went under.

A female vampire came out from behind a tree as John turned back and paused to listen. Tall and slender, her legs look like burned tree branches in tight leather pants. Her tiny breasts were pushed up as high as they would go in a black bustier. She twirled a lock of long blonde hair in her pointed finger.

“What do we have here?” she asked, blinking slowly with a sly grin on her face. “Little boy lost?”

He felt cold--icy inside, but it numbed his fear enough for him to stand there without wetting himself. With a half attempt at a shrug, he said, “Not lost, really. Just very curious about your kind. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

Quicker than was humanly possible, she was in front of him, gripping his shoulders, her face misshapen just like Angel’s had been. John was trembling now, but he stared boldly.

“What do you think, oh little, delectable, midnight snack?”

Run. Push her away. Escape!

Angel had said that Spike had never been good at following directions. Guess that applied to commands from his own common sense. Instead of fighting her, he lifted his hand and she watched him, curious to see what he’d do, as he placed it over her chest where her heart should be.

“What’s it like? The cold and having no heartbeat. Do you feel pain?”

She pushed him away, sneering at him. “You’re not one of those vampire wannabes, are you?”

“Now who has questions?” John grinned, the fear dissipating, even though he knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. “No. I have no desire to be a vampire. I’m just curious.” He tilted his head as he took in the sight of her. “Do you have a nickname? Or do they call you what you were before you were turned?”

“Who the hell cares? But you can call me Vixen, before I drain you dry.” Vixen weaved back and forth hypnotically and he was reminded of another vampire from his flashbacks. Vixen wet her lips and switched to her human face. “And will I have to wait until you’re dead in a heap to read your underwear tag or do you plan on telling me your name?”

“Sp-Spike.”

She reared back and then rolled her eyes. “Spike? You are a vampire groupie. I’m going to take great pleasure in killing you.”

“You know Spike?” he asked, a little too eagerly.

She turned her head and spit. “Never met the traitor. But he and his live-in boyfriend, Angel, were making things very difficult for the rest of us before someone with power got smart and unleashed the fury of hell on them. Spike is dead.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just like you’ll be, soon.”

“Boyfriend!”

She chuckled. “Don’t judge us. Vampires can do anything or anyone that they feel like doing.” Vixen ran a finger down her cleavage. “I can turn you if you want.”

The blood was rushing in his ears now as his heart started pounding faster. He couldn’t… “How many times do you have to bite me?” John touched his neck. “Three?”

Vixen just stared at him, her eyes wide and one brow raised high, until finally she burst out laughing. John jumped and then cringed from the high piercing sound as the vampire doubled over, unable to control herself.

“Oh, hell—” She burst into laughter again. “You…you think—” Vixen raised her hands, clawing her fingers. “I vant to bite yore neck.” And then she doubled over again. “Some kind of groupie you are. Haven’t you ever heard of the Internet? Google the word vampire and learn some real facts.” In a blur of motion, she was gripping his shoulders again, her sharp nails biting into his skin, even through his t-shirt. “Or, you can learn the hard way. Yeah. I like that better.”

Vixen morphed into her vampire face, bared her teeth and slowly lowered her head. At first John was mesmerized. This is what he’d been. A killer, feeding off the blood of his victims. He was instantly sick to his stomach and just before her razor sharp teeth touched him, he bent to the side, letting his knees give out. Self-defense moves that he knew by instinct kicked in and he was able to knock her to the ground.

Having sense enough to not engage in a battle that he knew he wouldn’t be able to win, John took off, running as fast as he could. He was so glad he worked out. Even in high-heeled boots, the vampire was starting to catch up to him. It was best not to look back, but he couldn’t help it.

The black Jetta was in his sights, parked just outside the gates, as he raced towards it. He fumbled with the keys in his pocket, telling himself not to drop them. John aimed the keyless entry as best he could and wanted to shout in relief when the headlights flicked on twice, indicating that it was now unlocked. He lost a second or two when he slammed into the car and had to back up in order to open the door. Yanking it shut behind him, he pushed the lock button, never being happier to hear the click of all the locks going at once as the snarling vampire slammed into the driver’s side door.

His hands shook so badly that he couldn’t get the key in. Vixen rammed the car again and the keys slipped through his fingers on to the floor of the car.

“Fucking hell!”

He blindly reached down until his fingers grasped the metal keys. The vampire hit the car again, but he held onto the wheel and gritted his teeth. The key slipped into place and he turned it, the car gently roaring to life. He’d just put it in drive when she hit the driver side window. It cracked, but he didn’t have time to bemoan the fact that he’d have to replace it. He stomped on the gas and peeled away, almost plowing into a huge dumpster when he couldn’t see the vampire in his rear mirrors, but turned to see her chasing after him, closer to the car than he would have liked.

---

John had been up all night. The motel he’d checked into wasn’t as nice as Gage’s guest room, but it had WiFi, clean sheets and cable TV. He’d locked himself in and started his laptop right away. Vixen’s laughter had followed him all the way to the room, and he realized just how much he didn’t know about vampires. He doubted very much that there would be a wealth of information on the Internet that didn’t come from a Dracula type book or other false legends. But, ten minutes into his search and he was fascinated by all that was out there.

On a whim, he googled William the Bloody and then spent another hour going from link to link, learning about the evil vampire that he had been. He was fascinated by the drawings of Drusilla and the legends and incredible tales that made up the existence he’d led with not only her, but with Angelus and Darla.

He couldn’t understand how all this information was out there, but the general population seemed oblivious. Vixen had laughed at him for his ignorance and now he couldn’t blame her. John had half expected her to turn into a bat and fly after the car.

But he’d fought a vampire. John grinned. One that was taller and stronger than he was and yet he’d lived to tell the tale.

Focusing on the tape he was now listening too, he pushed rewind and listened again as Dawn described what he’d looked like while he’d been in Sunnydale. Leather duster. John’s eyes strayed to the open closet where he’d hung the coat. Black jeans, black t-shirt, red silk shirt, combat boots and always slicked back, platinum blond hair.

It didn’t take him long before he was standing in front of the dingy full length mirror on the bathroom door with the coat on. His cargo shorts and white t-shirt didn’t really go with the coat. He wet his hair and slicked it back as best he could, but he wondered what it would look like, bleached. The knowledge of what he would need to achieve the look came to him out of nowhere.

Tossing the jacket on a chair, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car. He’d seen a 24-hour Wal-Mart down the street on the way to the motel. John could get what he needed there. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and wondered how he could know so much about getting the platinum look or martial arts and yet every memory of vampires had been swiped clean from his brain. He shivered as he opened the door, looking out for hungry vampires and Men in Black with little mind wiping gadgets.

---

The view from Buffy’s balcony was incredible, as always. Early morning was as overcast as usual, but the waves were forming nicely and the sand was starting to fill up with beach goers. She strained to see the surfers lined up behind the breaking waves, but it was no use. Going down there was the only way she would be able to tell.

Her coffee cup nearly slipped from her grip as she got closer to the ledge of the balcony. There, in its usual spot, was his umbrella. The cup ended up on the little table as she tore her robe off and raced through the apartment. Where was her blue bikini? Her hair! And no make-up yet.

Ten minutes later, she was riding the elevator with the surfboard that John had let her borrow under her arm and her beach bag in her hand. Buffy ran through the lobby, made her way down the steep steps, braved the traffic on the Strand and dumped her bag on John’s blanket. The cooler was there and his laptop, hidden under the blanket as usual. Her sunglasses hit the blanket next and she could barely get her shoes off before she was running towards the water.

John would be straight out from where his blanket was. She could make out four heads bobbing up and down in the water, spread out and past where the waves were forming. She dove in with her board and paddled with all her might, duck diving the white water breaks for maximum speed to get out there. She mimicked shoving the board down like John had taught her, as if she were doing a push up and followed the board under the wave, only using her knee towards the back of the board to propel herself up again when she no longer felt the turbulent water over her back.

Buffy came up and nearly breathed in a gallon of water with her gasp.

“Your hair!”

John stared past her and Dirk looked from John to Buffy and back to John. He slapped his board and said, “Well, that’s my cue to make like a cowboy and ride this next wave to shore.”

They both ignored him as he paddled by Buffy to catch the growing wave. She was getting pulled back too, so she paddled closer to John and turned to face the shore with him. Gazing at his short bleached hair she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He looked so much like Spike. A little band of tightness gripped her chest and she had trouble breathing normally.

“John, I’m—”

“Call me Spike. That’s my name, isn’t it?”

The glare of betrayal he sent her way hit her like a twelve-foot wave and she had to look away from him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was or who you were. I guess all the things Angel and Dawn told you helped you to remember everything?”

“No. I only have their word to go on and some things I’ve gleaned from the Internet,” he said in a neutral tone. Buffy could feel his eyes boring into her when he asked, “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I don’t—” She gave up trying to speak and only shook her head.

With a frown on his face, he began paddling for the next building wave. It wasn’t good etiquette, but she paddled for it too.

“John, please—”

“It’s Spike!”

He wouldn’t even look at her. John stood and caught the wave, but Buffy didn’t have any strength in her legs. She stayed on her stomach and shot the wave out like a body surfer, only she had to hold on for dear life as she hadn’t been prepared for the way the board teetered.

By the time she reached the umbrella, he was folding it closed, and her bag was sitting in the sand next to where his blanket had been.

“Can you just…stop and talk to me for a minute?” Buffy pleaded with him.

He tossed the umbrella to the ground and stood with a hand on his hip. “Answer me this,” he asked, pain etched in his features. “Why did you let me fall in love with you again? Was it some kind of perverse ego trip for you?”

“No,” she said softly. “It’s not like that at all. When I thought you were dead…” She faltered, trying to get her emotions under control. “I mourned and I couldn’t function. How could I not come out here to see if you were well, when I found out what really happened to you?”

“I don’t have all my memories,” he said, as he gathered his things, “but I’ve had some flashbacks of the two of us. You were never in love with me. You hated what I was and you were disgusted by the way I felt about you.”

“That was true in the beginning, but not in the end.” Buffy let a group of young giggling girls pass before she said, “You were always there for me and in the end I told you I loved you.”

“Yeah,” John said wryly. “You threw me a bone when you knew I was going to die while saving the world. At least that’s what Vi said. That I burned up while saving the world.” He looked off into the distance. “Seems I’m responsible for a huge crater about two hours north of here.”

“You did save the world, John—Spike. And I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you. It was true then and it’s true now.”

“True enough that you could come here and lie to me every day?”

His words cut her, tore her heart open and made her feel lower than low. “I just wanted you to have a normal life. I didn’t want to burden you with the past.”

“Well, great. The secret’s out. Now you can go back to London or Ireland. I’m sure your boss the--whatsitcalled--watcher still needs you over there. And I can get back to my normal life like you never stepped foot in it.”

Spike walked away from her then, his damp blond hair gleaming in the sun that was just peeking through the clouds.

Spike walked through the doors to the Hyperion Hotel with his coat swishing behind him. The new black jeans were stiff and the fancy Doc Martens that he’d bought earlier in the day were going to give him blisters-- he just knew it-- before he broke them in. He was attempting to hide his insecurities with a mask of not caring what they thought of him, but when the female in a stranger outfit than his own came out from a dark hallway, he stared in awe.

She turned her too large and too blue eyes on him. With her face void of expression, it was easier to see the tiny change in her demeanor when she noticed him. On full alert, Spike eyed her cautiously. Her small body was wrapped in the type of costume he’d only seen in comic books and it reminded him too much of the vampire he’d narrowly escaped the night before.

“They said you weren’t dead.” The creature ambled towards him, her head tilted slightly. “Alive. Yes, I can smell your humanity. It’s revolting.”

“You really know how to insult a guy,” Spike said cautiously.

“You would be even easier to break now, and you would take too long to heal.”

“Leave him alone, Illyria,” Vi said as she and Sharelle descended the stairs and stood together on the other side of the couch.

Spike came very close to wrapping his duster more tightly around him at the naked leer that Sharelle sent his way.

“Hot damn! Now that is sex on a stick,” the Slayer said. Vi groaned in embarrassment and Sharelle added, “What? Didn’t you tell me that Spike was sex on a stick back in the day?”

Not even trying to hide his smile, he took a few more steps into the lobby, held his hands out and turned slowly. “Did I get it right? Is this Spike?”

Vi cleared her throat and got past the squeak in her voice. “That’s close. You’re missing all the silver jewelry and the jeans aren’t tight enough, but it’s close.”

“I never met you when you were a vampire, but I’m guessing you were a little paler back then,” Sharelle said, grinning at him.

“Well, can’t do anything about the tan and I’m not about to give up my beach going ways.” He glanced at his hands, turning them over. “I could put rings on, but I think I’ll pass.”

“The boots are new,” Illyria said, before she went behind the reception desk.

He glanced down at them and shrugged. “The ones I had when they found me were a mess. I had one of the nurses throw them away for me.”

“I wish we could stay and chat, Spike, but Sharelle and I were just on our way out,” Vi told him, her fondness for him softening the edges of her serious eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asked, disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to hear more about what he had been like as a vampire.

“They are going hunting,” Illyria said.

“We call it going on patrol,” Sharelle added, pulling a stake out from her back pocket and twirling it around before replacing it.

He didn’t want to sound too eager, but after his run in with a vampire last night, he was ready for more. “Do you mind if I tag along?”

“Dawn would kill me if I said yes.” Vi eyed him, on the brink of giving in. “But you were one of the first to train me and I owe you a lot.”

“See there. I trained you, now you can train me,” Spike said cheerfully.

Illyria stepped out from behind the counter with a sword in hand. “Perhaps I should go with you. Do you have your stake?”

“My stake?” he asked, tilting his head in question.

Vi pointed at his coat. “You always carried at least one in your duster. You said you never knew when it would come in handy, but we all knew it was because you were always looking for a fight.”

“Really?” Illyria said, a wry smile now forming on her lips. “He told me it was so that he could stake Angel if he ever went evil again.”

Even though he’d come to the hotel to learn more about Spike, he was becoming uncomfortable with all the freely tossed out tidbits. Patting his coat down, he said, “Well, there are no stakes in here. Just an old-fashioned Zippo lighter. And I don’t even smoke.”

“You used to,” Vi said as she dug through her large purse.

She tossed him a stake and he caught it as if he’d been catching stakes all his life. And maybe he had.

In the end, Vi talked Illyria into staying behind and the two slayers and former vampire climbed into his Jetta. With nervous excitement, Spike turned the car on, ready to pull out onto the street.

“Where to, ladies?”

Vi pulled a Thomas Guide out of her bag and flipped it open. “Dawn suggested we hit this cemetery and then patrol the alleys near the strip clubs on this street here.”

From the back, Sharelle asked, “What happened to your window?”

“A crazy thing happened last night,” Spike said. “A vampire did that.”

They listened with rapt attention while he drove towards the cemetery on their list and told them how he’d escaped the murderous creature within an inch of his life.

Vi sat in silence for a minute, ignoring Sharelle and Spike’s banter back and forth. Finally making a decision, she flipped her phone open and dialed. They listened in while she talked.

“Dawn? Yeah, change of plans, I think. I have a lead on Vixen.” Vi paused to listen and then turned to Spike. “What cemetery did you see Vixen at?”

“Um, Hillside Memorial, off the 405.”

“Did you get that?” Vi said into the phone. “Yes, that’s Spike. He asked to go with us. Well, we’ll head over there and scope the place out.” She paused to listen again. “You could do that, but I think we can handle this. It’s up to you. You’re the watcher.”

“Figures she’d be there,” Sharelle said. “That’s a Jewish Cemetery. No crosses to worry about.”

“It’s a good thing that we carry our own then,” Vi said, jiggling her purse. “Dawn is sending Angel and Illyria as backup.”

“For one vampire?” Spike asked, doing his best to keep his eye on the road to make a u-turn. “I thought slayers were supposed to be tough.”

“We are,” Vi said. “Before the riots, the L.A. slayers were constantly going up against her. She’s a very skilled fighter and she’s very good at hiding and lying low until they would move on to another big bad. Then the strip clubs would start to lose dancers and customers all over again.”

Sharelle leaned forward, between the two front seats. “She gave us a lot of trouble after the riots as well. She thrived off the chaos and I’ve got scars from her bite mark to prove it.”

“She bit you? And you’re alive?” Spike asked, shaking his head.

“When a group of my fellow slayers showed up, she ran and went into hiding. I hope we run into her tonight,” the girl said, rubbing her neck. “I’m dying to put a stake in her.”

“So, what’s the plan when we get there?” Spike asked.

“I was thinking that you’d make good bait,” Vi said.

At first, Spike protested, but Vi’s reasoning was right on. He had escaped the elusive vampire’s clutches, and if she saw him there again tonight, she’d want to go after him to save her pride. The fact that Vixen almost always traveled with at least two other vampires had his stomach tied in knots. He didn’t like the odds. Three against three. Spike could only hope that backup would be quick to get there.

---

“She what?” Buffy yelled into her phone. “Call her back right now and tell her to get him as far away from that cemetery as possible.”

Dawn started to argue, but Buffy cut her off by slamming the phone back on its cradle. She raced around the room in a panic, searching for her keys. John might have survived a meeting with Vixen by some kind of fluke of luck and he might be stronger and more skilled than the average human, but he was human. She couldn’t lose him again.

The elevator was taking too long to arrive so she sprinted down the steps, all the while planning the painful death of Vi. There was no reason to get John involved in patrolling, even if he had asked to go along.

At such a late hour, the traffic was light and she was on the 405 freeway heading north within minutes of starting her car up. Worry lines etched her face as she weaved in and out of the lanes, going eighty miles an hour. She really hoped she didn’t get pulled over, but she took the chance with only seven miles to travel.

The energy saving, yellow lights in the cemetery perpetrated the eerie quiet of the vast place. She spotted John’s car at the bottom of the hill that led to the buildings and pulled up behind it. Dawn mentioned that Angel and Illyria were on their way too, but it would take them a little longer to get there from The Hyperion. Buffy cursed the fact that she was on vacation and had nothing but a couple of stakes. She shoved two in her back pockets and gripped a third while scoping out an entrance to the walled burial sections.

She found them a few minutes later and her jaw nearly dropped to the ground at the sight before her. Vi and Sharelle surrounded John—no, Spike—and he was punching and kicking while they took turns sparing with him. Her throat constricted and she had to fight the urge to sink to her knees at the shock of seeing him in the duster. And the red silk shirt! Memories flooded her mind of the days when he wore a shirt like that. When he’d been her enemy.

Sharelle saw the figures come over the hill at the same time that Buffy did. They both shouted a warning. Spike turned towards Buffy, his glare a gut wrenching reminder of how betrayed he felt. But now was not the time to talk.

“Spike!” she said, waving him to come her way. “Get over here.”

Without acknowledging her order, he turned; legs spread in a wide stance to face the coming vampires. With Vixen out in front and her growing posse of six fanning out behind her, they advanced on the slayers quickly, coming to a stop a few feet away with a concrete path between the two sides.

“I’d thank you for coming back with snacks for my family, but slayers leave a bad taste in my mouth,” Vixen said.

Buffy reached Spike just as Sharelle went on the attack, the normally level-headed girl losing her composure. Spike fought Buffy to get free from her grasp and she struggled to pull him back.

“Stop fighting me, you idiot,” she said through clenched teeth. “You’re endangering my slayers by even being here and I need to go help them.”

Just as he settled down, two vampires caught up to them and Buffy directed every ounce of her anger at one of them, fighting with an intensity she thought she’d lost, never to get back. Her only thought was to protect Spike. Just to her left, Spike fought off his attacker like a pro, but used only defensive moves to keep the one vampire at bay. She doubled her effort, throwing all her weight into her next punch.

The vampire fighting her was no match for a slayer who’d lived and fought through countless apocalypses. She didn’t waste time with fancy fighting or clever quips. Seeing an opening when he kicked, she used her leg in a sweeping motion, allowing his foot to impact her, but getting his other leg to fly up. He landed with a thud on his back and with precision, she held her stake up and drove it home.

With no time to gloat, she leapt to her feet and in a split second she assessed the situation. Vi was fending off two vampires, and Sharelle had just dusted one. Vixen headed towards Spike who struggled against the same vampire that he’d been fighting off before. Buffy raced towards Spike, just as Illyria stormed into sight, wielding an ax and heading straight for Vixen.

Buffy grabbed the vampire attacking Spike from behind and clasped her arms under his armpits and up to his shoulders to drag him away from Spike. Sharelle’s impassioned scream, “No!” tore into the night air, followed by a crunch and a crack as Illyria’s ax sliced through Vixen’s neck. At the same time, Spike drove a stake into the vampire in Buffy’s grasp and as it turned to dust Spike fell forward, the stake piercing Buffy’s shoulder.

They went down to the ground together as Angel helped Vi finish off the last two vampires.

Spike held his hand up and began trembling when he saw Buffy’s blood there. “What have I done?”

“I’m okay,” Buffy said, wincing at the sharp pain. “It’s just a superficial wound.”

She got to her feet and let her eyes fall on Vi, who was dusting off her hands. Buffy had seen red before, when she was angry; she was seeing it again now. She stomped passed Sharelle, who was chewing Illyria out for killing “her” vampire, and she decked the unsuspecting Vi, who flew through air, landing with a groan ten feet away.

Angel gripped her arm to hold her back. She fought to get control of her emotions and he asked, “What did do you do that for?”

Buffy shrugged out of his grasp and stomped over to Vi who wisely stayed down. With narrowed eyes, Buffy said, “If you ever put someone I love in danger like that again, I will kill you.”

Vi shook her head and scooted back. “I didn’t mean—he was with us. He was safe.”

“Leave her alone,” Spike said from behind her. Buffy glanced back to see him standing on wobbly legs where they had fallen together. “I talked her into letting me come with them.”

Her eyes softened and she went to him, putting her arm around his waist to help him stay steady. “Let’s get you home.”

Spike stepped away from her, shaking his head, his jaw set stubbornly set. “I’m fine. I’ll get there on my own.”

For a moment, Buffy watched him walk away as the others gathered the weapons. She went into action, following him. He might not want to talk to her, but they didn’t know if they’d gotten every vampire in Vixen’s family. She couldn’t take a chance that one might jump out at him. He seemed to be thinking along those lines and he glanced around with wary eyes.

He opened his car door and she sped up to hold it open. “Talk to me,” she said with pleading eyes.

“Right now, I just want to go home and absorb all that just happened.” He put his hand on the door, preparing to close it, but she held it firmly. “I just dusted a vampire. It turned to nothing…” He glanced up at Buffy then and his eyes widened. “Maybe I should take you to the emergency room to get that patched up.”

She hesitated. If she agreed to go to the ER, she’d be able to spend more time with him and hopefully get him to talk to her. But, she’d lied to him enough already and she was through manipulating him. She was way past the age where she would overplay an injury to get a guy’s attention.

“Slayers heal really fast. It stings a little, but by morning it will be fine. Two days from now, you won’t even be able to tell that I was hurt.” She rolled her shoulder to prove her point. “But maybe we could go get some coffee somewhere?”

“No. Maybe you’re used to keeping such late hours, but I need sleep. I’m sorry about the wound though.”

“It was an accident.”

With a heavy heart, she gave up on the idea of forcing him to talk to her. Buffy let go of the door and took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. Spike didn’t say another word, just nodded slightly, closed his door and took off.

The early morning breeze pushed wisps of hair across Buffy’s face. She ignored it and smoothed out Spike’s blanket on the sand. He’d been out in the ocean for more than an hour and her patience was starting to wear thin.

Yesterday, she’d watched from her balcony for him to set up his spot, but he never showed. She’d phoned him, but Dirk had answered and after trying to get Spike to come to the phone, they both gave up. He couldn’t avoid her forever though and she wasn’t about to move from her spot until they talked.

Her stomach flipped and her heart skipped a beat when Spike and Dirk came into view, heading her way. She loved the feeling she got, like a teenager, when she saw him. Dirk smiled at her, but Spike just stopped in front of the blanket and frowned while his friend set their boards up in the sand.

“Hey, Buffy! Long time no see. How’s it hanging?” Dirk asked as he found a spot on the blanket to sit.

“I’m good. You?”

“Whoa!” Dirk pointed at the wound on her shoulder. “How’d you get that gnarly cut?”

Buffy glanced down at what was now just a jagged scab. “An unavoidable accident.” She shielded her eyes and looked up at a dripping wet and not happy Spike. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

Reluctantly he did and wordlessly took the offered towel from her. “Look, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I was really hoping to get some work done today. I’ve got major edits to do and notes to work through before I turn this stuff over to my editor.” He opened his laptop and wouldn’t look her in the eyes.

Dirk stood, exchanging a sympathetic glance with Buffy, and grabbed a beer from the cooler. “I’m off to catch some Zs.”

Buffy tried to smile, but managed only to wave as Dirk walked off with a surfboard under each arm, mumbling about things being ‘bogus’.

Spike continued to ignore her, and while it hurt for him to treat her that way, she wouldn’t be deterred. She leaned to the side and drew a heart in the sand.

“You told me you loved me.” She said it softly, unabashed by the hurt she heard in her own voice.

He stopped typing, glanced at her quickly and then back at his monitor. “From the sound of it, it seems I was in the habit of doing that.”

She wanted to hear him say that he still loved her, that he would always love her, but that he just needed a little more time to adjust to knowing about his past. She desperately wanted him to throw her a bone. A crumb. And she was reminded of the times he’d been desperate for her to give him a crumb of hope. She straightened her shoulders and drew strength from the Spike she used to know, before the destruction of Sunnydale. He had been persistent; she could be too.

“Yes, you used to tell me often. Once you knocked me unconscious, tied me and your sire up, and offered to dust her for me.”

He snorted. “I bet that worked like a charm.”

“Not so much. You insisted that you were in love me with me, but you had me tied up and you…you didn’t have a soul. You begged me to give you what you called a crumb. To give you some kind of hope that there might be a chance for something between us.”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t give me that crumb.”

“I told you that the only chance you had with me was when you had me unconscious.”

He smiled then. “Now I know for sure that I patterned Summer Slater after you.” The smile faded, replaced by a disgruntled frown. “I bet you got a kick out of reading my book. Must have been a huge ego trip for you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, almost in a whisper. “You can’t know how happy I was to know that you were alive. I dropped everything to come down here and find you.”

“Not happy enough to tell me who you were.” Agitated, he stood and began gathering his stuff. “I’m not getting anything done with you here.”

She didn’t want to push him too far, so she let him go.

---

The next morning, Buffy sat on her balcony and wrote Spike a note on the stationary that Dawn had given her last Christmas. It was the only set she had, with little brown and white hound dogs with huge eyes.

Spike,

I know you’re still upset with me, but I won’t give up on you. I love you. I meant it when I said it a long time ago, I meant it when I told you a couple of weeks ago and I mean it now. I’m not going anywhere. I know you love me. You are worth the wait.

Love Always,

Buffy

She took her time folding the paper, tucking it into the matching envelope and writing his name on the front. Then she made her way down to the beach, glad to see that he was still out with his surfboard. She lifted the blanket, unzipped his laptop case and lifted the monitor up enough to slip the envelope between the keyboard and the screen. Carefully she replaced everything like it had been before she’d been there and then she sprinted back to her apartment.

The knock on her door a few hours later had her heart racing. She’d just finished making a salad for lunch and wiped her hands on a towel. She all but ran to the door, and then took a deep breath. Opening the door, she let the smile fall from her face.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she told Dirk.

“I know. Can I come in for a minute?”

“Sure. You want some lunch?”

“I’m good. You wouldn’t happen to have any beer, would you?”

Buffy offered him a seat on the couch and went to the kitchen. After putting her salad in the fridge, she grabbed a beer and then handed it to him before sitting in the easy chair with her feet tucked under her.

“So, what’s going on?” she said.

Dirk popped the can open and took a long drink before setting it on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted to get more comfortable and then glanced at her, unable to hold her gaze.

“John won’t talk to me. I know something big happened. I know that you knew him in the past and that he was called Spike, but that’s all he’ll say.” Buffy just sighed, so he said, “I told you that Misty dumped me, right?”

“Uh, huh,” Buffy said, not really paying attention as she stared off into space.

“That day, when you came over looking for John, right after you left, Misty told me that she didn’t want to see me anymore and not to call her. Then she just took off.”

“I’m sorry she did that to you. John was worried that she was using you.”

Dirk nodded. “He told me that on more than one occasion. Thing was, I didn’t care. As long as John didn’t mind that I was dating his ex, which he didn’t. I was getting some tail on a regular basis and she was easy to look at.”

Buffy cleared her throat and crinkled her nose in distaste.

“Oops,” Dirk said with a grin. “Sorry about that. My mouth just sort of goes on without me sometimes.”

Buffy smiled at him then. Spike was never that crude, unless they were alone and naked, but she could see why John would be drawn in to a friendship with Dirk. He would make a great vampire. A damn scary one without a soul, but still… “It’s okay. But I’m still not getting why you’re here.”

“I wanted to warn you that John—Spike—whatever he wants to be called today—is meeting Misty tonight at Stranded.” Dirk scratched the tip of his nose. “I don’t think he wanted me to know, but I overheard him talking to her on the phone. It’s not like I wouldn’t find out. I’m tending bar tonight.” He paused as she stared at him with sympathetic eyes. “I know what you’re thinking and really, I don’t care who Misty dates, but I think John’s vulnerable right now. I think he’s angry and I don’t want him to do anything stupid, like give that bitch a reason to think she has a chance with him.” He sat forward. “I know he loves you. I’ve never seen him act the way he does when you’re around with anyone else. He’s head over heels.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” She was already forming her own plan, but didn’t want Dirk to know how desperate she was.

“I want you to go down there tonight and fight for him. Best-case scenario, you kick her ass. Bonus if there’s bikinis, mud or oil involved.”

She gave the incorrigible surfer a sidelong glance and then let a tiny giggle escape. He grinned back and then burst into laughter when she did.

“Oh, Dirk, I’m so glad you stopped by.” Buffy stood, hoping he’d get the hint that she wanted him to leave.

He did and got to his feet, taking his beer with him. With his hand on the doorknob, he paused and asked, “So, you’ll be there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Glorious! I’ve got your back, Summers.” He opened the door, stepped out into the hall and peeked back into the apartment. “If you really want to hurry John in to taking you back, we could always pretend to be a couple. I’d risk his friendship to see him madly jealous for you.”

“No way,” she said, still smiling. “I’m not going to play games with him. I’m in hot water with him enough already.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” He let the sentence hang in the air as he shut the door.

---

The Friday night crowd at Stranded was packed in the bar and charged up with liquor as usual. Spike didn’t envy Chet’s job tonight. It was only ten-thirty and yet he and the other bouncer had thrown out four idiots already. The sliding doors to the larger dance floor past the pool tables were open wide and from his vantage point at the bar, Spike could see the bodies pulsating and could hear and feel the loud beat.

“You want another?” Dirk asked him from the business side of the bar.

“No thanks, mate. Gotta take care of something in a little while and I need to be sober.” He turned to face Dirk and grinned, trying to get his friend to lighten up. “You see anything you like tonight?”

Dirk shrugged, but pointed at a scantily clad, olive-skinned girl with long black hair. “I wouldn’t mind dancing the flamenco with her.”

“Hey, John,” Misty said, as she came up and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I love your new look. So sexy.”

Spike tensed up and did his best to turn and unravel himself from her grasp. He didn’t encourage her to call him Spike. He only did that with friends. With Misty, he was kinda hoping she’d never call him anything ever again. The bitch had used his friend to get closer to him even though she knew that he wanted nothing to do with her. The last straw was when she broke it off with Dirk moments after finding out that he’d taken off without telling Buffy. When Misty called earlier in the day he agreed to meet her, just so he could let her down hard; give her back some of what she’d been dishing out.

Glancing back at Dirk, he said, “I’ll be back in a few. I think I’m going to need that refill right about then.” Spike got up and grabbed Misty’s hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

He led her past the last pool table and didn’t offer her a seat. Instead, he leaned against the wall and watched Dirk. He worked the bar, mixing and passing out drinks with flare, but Spike was sure his friend was keeping one eye on them.

“Why did you want to see me?” Spike said, finally staring at his ex-girlfriend. He had a hard time focusing on her face with her breasts practically spilling out of her thin tube top.

“I don’t know,” she said suggestively, getting a little closer to him. “I heard that you were single again and I thought, you know, maybe we could get together.”

He wanted to shudder in disgust at having her so close to him, but he tilted his head and asked, “Why on earth would you think I’d want to get with you after you’d been with my best friend?”

Misty started talking, but Spike tuned her out. Even her hand on his stomach had no effect on him. He gazed past her and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw her. Buffy. She waved to Chet, who’d obviously let her and her sister into the club without having to wait in the line outside. God, she looked incredible in a tiny black dress with a plunging neckline and shiny stiletto heels. Her sister looked good too, in a more conservative, yet curvy red dress. They headed to the bar, where they sat, talking to Dirk, who had perked up for the first time that night. His friend suddenly became his old animated self and Spike could only hope he wouldn’t say anything to offend them.

Dirk pointed in Spike’s direction and he stood up taller as Buffy turned to look and their eyes met.

“Are you even listening to me?” Misty said, attempting to still sound seductive, but she was clearly peeved with him.

“Er, what? Uh, yeah, yeah. Go on.”

“I was saying, since Dirk will be working all night, why don’t we go to your place and have a little fun? We could watch that movie you like so much.” She got even closer to him and he could smell her expensive perfume. She traced his cheekbone with a perfectly manicured finger and licked her lips before she leaned in to whisper, “I could go down on you while you sit on the couch. I know you always liked that.”

Spike had had just about enough and was about to shove Misty away when she suddenly went flying to the side and into the wall next to him.

“Hey!” she yelled indignantly.

Where Misty’s nasty words had left him cold and flat, Buffy’s blazing eyes and heaving chest had his blood rushing south.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Buffy said with deadly calm, “you’ll stay far away from what’s mine.”

Misty stood up straight, rubbed her shoulder and glared at Buffy. “Yours! John, are you going to let her talk to me like that?”

Stunned, all he could do was shrug. Buffy sneered at Misty. “You can go now.”

Misty lurched forward to attack Buffy.

Coming to his senses, Spike grabbed the redhead, held her back and shook his head. “Actually, Misty and I were having a conversation. So, I think you should be the one to go.”

The anger deflated right out of Buffy. Hurt that Spike would choose Misty over her, she blinked a few times, nodded and then headed back to the bar.

Misty watched her go too and only when Buffy was seated and huddled with Dirk, deep in heated conversation, did the redhead turn back to Spike with a smug smile. “Now, where were we?”

Spike held his hand out to keep her from coming any closer. “If you value your life, I think you’d better just stay where you are.”

As upset as he was with Buffy, he couldn’t help but feel all warm and tingly with the murderous look she was throwing Misty’s way. Misty took a tiny step back but frowned. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

Spike took a deep breath before he spoke. “Look, I didn’t agree to meet you here so we could hook up again. I just wanted you to get this straight in your head, so pay attention.” She frowned at him, putting her hands on her hips, but for once she was quiet. “First, I broke up with you a long time ago because I just wasn’t interested in you anymore. That hasn’t changed. Second, if I thought for one minute that your game playing had hurt Dirk, I’d pay Buffy Summers to come over here and kick your arse, but Dirk was just in it for the sex, so you played each other. Except for the part where I wasn’t the least bit jealous and my opinion of you dropped even lower.”

She sputtered and shook her head, totally blindsided by his words. “But…but you dumped that bitch. I thought you wanted to go out with me again.”

He chuckled. “Get your head out of your arse. I wouldn’t date you again even if you could take a pill and transform your dull personality. I can’t be any clearer than that. Keep bothering me or my friends and I’ll get a restraining order.”

“A restr—you bastard! I can have any guy in this place I want. I don’t need to waste my time chasing after you.”

“Great! Plenty of blokes to choose from in this place tonight. I’ll be over there celebrating with a good strong drink.”

He walked away, satisfied that she’d finally gotten the hint and kicking himself for not being the bad guy and insulting her a long time ago.

“Damn,” Dawn said, with a huge grin on her face. “I don’t know what he said to her, but that chick looks about ready to explode.”

Buffy glanced back again at Spike and Misty. Spike sauntered towards the bar as Misty glared at him, her chest and face turning a dark shade of red. The curse words she shouted at Spike’s retreating form were drowned out by the loud music. He took a seat, six stools down from them, and slapped a twenty on the glossy surface.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” Dirk said. He paused and leaned over the bar to conspire with Buffy. “I still think you’d get faster results if you made him jealous.” Then he rushed over to get Spike his drink and find out just what had happened with Misty.

Not caring that Spike knew she was being nosy, she strained to hear what they were saying; but it was futile in the nightclub environment to attempt to hear other people’s conversations. Buffy turned back to face Dawn when the younger girl gripped her arm.

Two good-looking men in faded jeans and button down shirts that were unbuttoned down to their navels approached them. “Hi, ladies,” the one with the goatee said. “Would you like to dance?”

Before Buffy could turn them down gently, Dawn hopped off her bar stool and pulled Buffy with her. “We’d love to dance.”

Buffy allowed them to lead her to the glowing dance floor and did her best to be cheerful as she moved to the beat with one of the guys. She wanted to laugh as he jerked around rather more like a robot than a man, but he wasn’t laughing and seemed to think he was doing a good job. After a few minutes, she was ready to excuse herself and find a seat. She spotted Spike, leaning against a dark wall, just inside the dance room, his white hair standing out with a purple glow in the black lights.

Buffy maneuvered closer to Dawn and shouted in her ear, “I need to talk to Spike.”

Dawn nodded and grabbed both of the men by the arm and pulled them deeper into the crowd. Buffy’s heart pounded faster as she walked towards Spike, who visibly tensed but didn’t run away as she approached him.

“Not in the mood to dance?” she asked him.

“Never am. I’m terrible at it.” He downed the last of his drink and set the glass on a ledge.

“Did you get my note this morning?”

“Would have been hard to miss it.”

His cool tone did nothing to lift her spirits. She clenched her fists behind her back and tried to temper her frustration. Spike was unwilling to budge. At all. But, he’d followed her to the dance floor. That was something.

“I meant every—”

“I’ve got an early meeting with my agent in the morning and I’m knackered.”

Spike left her standing there with her mouth open. “Ugh!” Buffy stamped her foot, then turned to search for red in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. When she finally found her, she yelled over the music to Dawn’s two admirers, “She’ll be right back.”

Just off the dance floor, Dawn bit her lip, looking hopeful. “Did you get to talk to him?”

“Sort of. Listen, I’m going to walk back to my place.”

Dawn shook her head and searched her little purse for her car keys. “You don’t have to do that. We can go now and I’ll drive you home.”

“No. It looks like you’re having fun. Thank you for dropping everything to come with me tonight. You’re welcome to stay over at my place if you end up too tired to drive back to L.A.”

“I needed a night out.” Dawn glanced back at the guys, who were waving to her. “And, I’m having fun. If you really don’t mind me staying while you go home, I think I will hang out here. But, don’t worry about leaving your door unlocked. I’m not drinking, so I’ll be fine to drive home.”

They hugged and then Buffy smiled as she watched her sister head back to her newfound friends. On her way to the exit, she stopped at the bar and asked Dirk to watch out for her sister. She gave the same instructions to Chet who promised to walk Dawn to her car when she was ready to leave. Satisfied that she’d be safe and knowing that Dawn had a lot of training and could take care of herself, Buffy stepped out into the refreshing night air and headed across the street where she planned to walk the well-lit Strand back to her building.

At this time of night, it was almost empty. A couple of men on bikes passed her and up ahead she could make out a lone figure on foot. She narrowed her eyes to see better and then picked up her own pace when she was sure who it was. Buffy watched him take the steps up to the parking lot where the path to their apartments was. She took them two at a time, but was careful of her heels. She didn’t need a sprained ankle.

She went through the apartment entrance, ran down the hall and stepped into the elevator with him just before the doors closed on them.

“Going up?” she asked cheerfully and pushed the button for her tenth floor apartment.

He reached past her and pushed the number two. In seconds, the doors opened, but she blocked his way out and slapped the close door button.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He said it with an appropriate amount of indignation, but Buffy saw the flare of interest in his blue eyes. Just like old times, he got off on being pushed around by her. She wasn’t surprised.

“I want you to come up to my apartment so we can talk.” The elevator lurched up. “Without you running away from me.”

“Okay.”

They were both silent after that. Buffy insisted that he get off the elevator before she did, because she wasn’t sure he wouldn't close the door after she got off and leave her standing there again. He took out his own key to the apartment and let them in. She flipped the lights on and waited for him to say something.

“Well?” He crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow at her. “Say what you have to say so I can get some sleep.”

“Sit down, at least.”

Spike took the easy chair, leaving Buffy to sit on the couch alone. She bent over to undo the straps for her shoes, knowing full well that she was giving him quite a view of her cleavage. She didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for using everything in her arsenal to keep him staring at her. They’d been inseparable for days before he found out about his past and she missed his touch, missed his arms around her when she slept at night.

She slowly sat up straight. “You need to forgive me.”

He looked down at his shoes. “Thing is, I don’t know how you could forgive me.”

Totally blindsided by his response, she said, “What?”

Spike looked at her then, searching her face, for what, she didn’t know.

“I did something bad, didn’t I? I mean, I can’t remember what exactly, but I’ve been having these flashbacks. Everyone glaring at me at different times. Your eyes, big, full of unshed tears and anguish when you looked at me.”

She closed her eyes, but she could see her bathroom in Sunnydale and she opened them quickly. “You were a soulless vampire for more than a century. You did a lot of bad things. A lot. When you first came to town, all you wanted to do was kill me. You tried, too, many times.”

“But when I changed, when I was obsessed with you, I didn’t hurt you?”

With a shaky breath, she paused and then said, “We hurt each other. But those last few months that we were together, it was…special. I’d never felt closer to anyone in my life--but we were in the middle of the biggest battle to save the world we’d ever been in. There was no time for relationships.” She choked up and with her voice breaking she struggled to keep talking. “We didn’t get a chance to say everything. I didn’t get a chance to say…to tell you how much your friendship, your loyalty—oh, God—and your love meant to me.”

His features were twisted in pain as he held his breath. “Why didn’t I come find you then when I came back as a ghost to Angel’s office?”

“I can’t believe he told you about that.” Buffy shook her head.

“At least he had the decency to tell me the truth.”

She ignored the hurt and accusation laced in his voice.

“Here’s what Angel told me about all that ghost stuff. The magic that brought you back from dust also bound you to the city of Los Angeles. You tried to leave, to come to me, but once you got to the outskirts of the city, you would pop back into the Wolfram and Hart building. And then when you were a solid vampire again, Angel needed your help and you stayed.”

“Why wouldn’t I call you?”

“I don’t know. I wish you would have. I would have been on a plane to L.A. so fast…”

Confused and uncertain, he asked, “Would you have?”

“That’s exactly what I did when I found out you were alive and here in Redondo Beach.”

“And yet, you didn’t introduce yourself. You didn’t think it was important to tell me who I was.”

“It wasn’t like that.” On a whim, she stood and went to him, sitting in his lap and putting her arms around his neck. She shivered with pleasure when his hands automatically found their way to her hips. “I was just so happy for you. That you were getting a second chance to have a life.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck and said, “But, I’ll admit, I was--am too selfish to let you go. I wanted you in my life, and I was trying my best to make that happen, but still keep you blissfully ignorant of your past. Our past. Everyone told me I should tell you, but I was stupid and thought I knew what was best for you.”

“Aren’t I different? Do you really like the human me or are you just blindly missing Spike, the vampire you were in love with?”

“You are a little different.” She smiled fondly and touched his face. “I miss your caustic tongue sometimes and all that witty snark—we used to go rounds, insulting each other.”

“And this was a good thing?”

“Oh, yeah. Even before you started crushing on me, the way you talked used to get me hot.”

Buffy moved over his lap, biting her lip when he looked down and she could feel him getting firm beneath her.

“What else is different?” Spike asked, doing his best to focus on her face instead.

“Not much. You’re still the sexy, energetic and headstrong guy you always were.” She grabbed one of his hands and entwined her fingers with his. “You have a great tan now, you're deliciously warm to cuddle with and,” she put their hands over his heart, “you have a heartbeat.”

He stood up suddenly and she found herself gently placed on her feet. He stepped away from her.

“I can’t think when you’re this close to me.”

“I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel. To act. I want you to forgive me, dammit!”

He shook his head. “You think you know me, but what if you don’t? What if two months from now, you decide that I’m a disappointment?”

“You don’t think I know you?” With a shuddering breath, she advanced on Spike, gently pushing him back until he was against the wall next to the television stand. “Right now, you’re freaking out because it turns you on when I get rough with you.” To prove her point Buffy shoved him again, smashing him against the wall. “I know that if I tore your shirt off right now, that fire in your eyes would get bigger.” He was turned on just by her suggestion, but she changed gears and poked his chest with her finger. “I know that you love me. And that right now, you want to pick me up and throw me on my bed.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I can’t fight with you, I can’t watch over your sister or be the extra muscle when the world needs saving. I’m just a man now.” He looked off to the side.

Buffy grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. “Just a man? You’re not just a man. You’re a force of nature, an incredible person who deserved the reward he got. There are hundreds of little hormonal warriors out there now. Hell, I’m practically obsolete myself.”

“But don’t you still work for the Council thing that Dawn was going on about?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m ready to retire. I’ve worked hard. I’ve lived longer than most slayers ever do.” She pulled him with her to the couch.

“But you’re so young,” Spike said.

“Trust me. In my line of work, I’m over the hill. I’ve died twice and been revived or brought back.”

He gasped at the thought and squeezed her hand.

“Um,” she said, “I guess no one told you about all that.”

“No, Angel and Dawn conveniently left those details out.” Spike thought about it for a minute and then nodded, “I guess that’s what Dawn meant when she said that I had watched out for her one summer when you were gone.”

“You watched out for her, you kept her safe and you made her feel like she mattered.”

“She’s amazing, like you,” he said, reaching up and running his hand through her hair. “Where is your sister? You didn’t just leave her alone at Stranded, did you?”

Buffy watched his mouth move, wanting nothing more to kiss him. They were so close. If she leaned in…

Absently, she said, “She’s gone through slayer training. Self-defense and all that. I asked Dirk to look out for her.”

Spike leapt to his feet. “What time is it?”

Frowning, she glanced over at the clock on the VCR. “It’s almost 1:30. Why?”

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her off the couch. “Dirk was off at one tonight.”

“So?”

“I know Dirk. He’s got her up in the apartment right now. That’s the way he operates.”

“Dawn wouldn’t go for him; and she’s a big girl, even if she would.”

“Do you want your sister dating shag-anything-that-moves Dirk?”

She sighed, wishing they could just stay and talk. There was so much more they needed to work out. He hadn’t said he'd forgiven her yet.

“No. I don’t want her to date someone like Dirk.”

“Let’s go then.”

Dawn grinned at the good-looking blond guy sitting next to her on the couch. She’d never seen someone as into a documentary as he was.

“How many times have you seen this movie?”

“Dude! Hundreds of times.” Dirk took a sip of his beer. “John and I were planning to take a trip just like this next summer, but I’m thinking he’ll be too busy to follow through.”

“It’s weird to hear you call Spike "John". And why wouldn’t he go on that trip?”

“I’m no fortune teller, but I see a wedding, say in June, next year. And I just know Buffy will force me to wear a monkey suit.”

Dawn laughed. “You think Buffy is going to marry you?”

He gave her a sidelong glance and then grinned. “Not even in my wildest dreams. Hell, John would Freddy Krueger my ass. No. I’ll just be the best man.”

“You think so?”

He nodded and leered at her. “I bet you’d look hot in a maid of honor dress. Something red like the number you’re wearing now. And you know what they say about the best man and the maid of honor…”

She shifted farther away from him on the couch and shook her head. “No, but I can guess what you’re thinking. If Spike had his memories and heard you suggest that with me, he’d turn into Freddy, Michael and Jason rolled into one and dismember you slowly.”

The front door flew open and Spike burst into the room with Buffy close behind.

“Don’t even think about touching her, Dirk. You’re my friend, but she’s Buffy’s little sister.”

Dawn laughed at Dirk’s horrified look. “See!” She stood and turned to face Spike. “I was just telling him that if you had your memories back, you’d kill Dirk if he touched me.”

“Don’t need my memories back. One of the first flashbacks I ever had was of you and how fiercely I tried to protect you.”

Spike didn’t see it, but Dawn caught the flicker of hurt in Buffy’s eyes and while she was thrilled that Spike could remember her a little bit, she felt for her sister. Dirk moved behind her and she smiled at Spike.

“It was my idea to come hang out here. Call me nosy or whatever, but I couldn’t wait to find out if you guys made up or not.”

Dawn watched carefully as the two exchanged serious glances. Buffy let her shoulders droop and Spike looked away. The Slayer grabbed his hand and said quietly, “We can talk more tomorrow, right?”

“Sure,” Spike said, giving Dawn hope for them when he covered their hands intimately with his other hand. “I’ve got that meeting, but I’ll call you when I get done.”

They leaned towards each other, forgetting they had an audience. Dirk snorted and the couple reluctantly let go of each other.

The surfer tapped Dawn on the shoulder and whispered, “See. Don’t have to be a fortune teller.”

Dawn turned and smiled at Dirk. “I so hope you’re right.”

“We should go, Dawn,” Buffy finally said, “and let these guys get some sleep.”

---

Dawn left the next morning, after a breakfast of fruit and cereal, wishing Buffy luck and throwing out tips on how to keep her man. Buffy slapped her on the shoulder when she suggested that Buffy would do better if she became a mute.

As soon as she was alone, Buffy grabbed the phone and went on the balcony with a magazine. It was a pathetic way to spend a Saturday, waiting by the phone, hoping the guy she wanted to be with would call her. She was almost through with the magazine when the phone rang. Not even trying to look cool, she answered before the first ring finished.

“Hello!”

“Hi, Buffy,” Spike’s deep and sexy voice came across the line. Immediately, she craved him. Wanted him near her, talking softly against her neck and ear.

Clearing her head, she asked, “How did your meeting go?”

“Good.” Silence stretched out for a minute before he spoke. “Will you be home an hour from now?”

“Yes,” she said, too quickly.

“Okay. I’ll come by then. Should I bring take out? Maybe Chinese?”

“Ooh, that sounds good.”

She went into action after she hung up, choosing an outfit and setting her accessories out. She took a long relaxing bath, using her collection of Strawberries and Champagne bath oils and soaps that Spike had gone crazy for when she’d used them a week ago. When she was ready, she impatiently tapped her foot and absently changed the channels on the TV every few seconds, trying not to worry that Spike might have decided that he wanted her to leave him alone.

She’d just have to keep being persistent if that happened.

When Spike knocked on the door a few minutes later, Buffy opened it for him and smiled shyly. He stood there, holding out a bulging bag from Little Beijing with the other hand hidden behind his back. His serious expression rattled her nerves.

“This smells so good,” she told him, taking the bag and heading for the kitchen. “Shall we get plates or eat out of the boxes? Plates I think.”

She couldn’t even look at him. If Spike was planning on letting her down easy, she’d put him off forever, if she could. A plate slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor, into a hundred tiny pieces.

“Crap!”

Spike gently gripped her arm and pulled her back up before she could start picking up the mess. “Buffy. Stop for just a minute, okay?” With one had still behind his back, he backed up, pulling her with him out of the kitchen. “These are for you.”

He held out a bouquet of pink roses, looking proud of himself, and she nearly melted on the spot.

“Does this mean you forgive me?”

She reached for the flowers, but he pulled his hand back slightly, just out of her reach. “Do you promise not to keep any more secrets from me and tell me everything about our past?”

Buffy looked off to the side for a minute, her mind racing, thinking about all the horrid things they’d said and done to each other. Telling him about them would mean owning up to her part and she wasn’t sure he’d like her so much when he knew all of it. She gazed at him. His eyes searching hers, waiting for her response.

“I promise. I’ll never do that to you again. I’ll tell you everything.”

“You might want to put these in some water then,” he said, a huge grin on his face.

What she wanted to do was fling the roses across the room and jump on Spike to smother him with kisses. Instead, she took the roses and gingerly stepped over the broken ceramic on the floor. While she filled the vase, he swept up the mess.

Over Chinese food in little paper boxes passed back and forth across the table, Spike chatted about his meeting. More good news. With the exception of a few critics, his second book was making waves in the publishing industry. “Gage was happy. He said the reviews glowed like radioactive material, but I think that described his face.”

She smiled at him and chewed some rice, just happy to be sitting with him, having a happy conversation.

Spike was quiet for a second and then he said, “I guess the critics are tired of all the stories where the hero gets the girl.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes the hero does get the girl.”

“And Jacob will get her in the end. I’m getting ready to write the fourth and final book, but in the second book, Summer puts Jacob through hell.”

“Dirk told me that you’ve already gotten your shipment of books. Do I get one?”

“Of course! I can’t wait to see what you think of it.” He stood and gathered up the empty cartons. “I’ll bring one up from my apartment the next time I go down there.”

Buffy got up quickly and as she put leftovers in the refrigerator, she said, “Not planning to go anywhere for awhile?”

Coming behind her, Spike wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “I was hoping you’d invite me to stay here tonight.”

The warmth of his breath tickling her sensitive flesh and the sensation of his hands roaming under her silk blouse reminded her of how safe and complete she’d felt in heaven. This was heaven on earth. She turned in his arms and gazed into his eyes.

“Please stay.”

Spike leaned in and gave her a hard, quick kiss. He gazed at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly parted.

“I’ve missed you.”

Unable to form words, Buffy hugged Spike, squeezing him tightly.

“You’re very strong.”

“Sorry,” she said, letting him go.

“No. I like it.” The corners of his mouth lifted and so did her heart.

Tentatively, she said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Spike leaned in and planted a kiss on her neck. He left a trail of kisses, stopping at her earlobe where he let his tongue dart and swirl just under her ear. Buffy moaned softly and pushed them back out of the kitchen.

“I can’t wait any longer. I need you. Now,” she whispered.

They kissed as they slowly fumbled towards the bedroom, discarding clothes.

“Christ, I missed this,” he said as they reached the door. “The past few days have been hell for me. I got used to sleeping with you beside me.”

“It was awful. Never again, okay?”

He nodded as she shut the door.

---

Nine days later, Buffy entered the kitchen with a cheerful smile on her face and readjusted the strap to her bikini top. Dirk was bringing a cooler down to their usual spot on the sand, but somehow the task of making snacks had fallen on her. She’d found the perfect little picnic basket at the second hand store down the street and now she filled it with fruit, cheese and crackers. As an afterthought, she tossed in a bottle of water, just in case Dirk conveniently forgot that she didn’t drink beer at ten in the morning.

She placed the basket next to the front door, along with her bag filled with a towel, her wetsuit, and sunscreen and was just about to go out on the balcony when the phone rang. Buffy picked up the receiver and smiled as she greeted the caller. “Hello?”

“Giles is not happy,” Willow stated, without a greeting.

Buffy sighed and leaned against the breakfast bar. “What else is new?”

Spike left the bedroom just then and their eyes met. His eyes questioning curiously, wanting to know who was on the phone. He looked incredible in his tight wet suit with is hair still damp from his shower. Smiling and keeping her eyes on him, she waited for Willow to stop chatting and said to her, “Hold on a minute, okay?” To Spike she said, “It’s my friend, Willow. Remember, the one I was telling you about? The witch.”

Nodding, he approached her and gave her a long sensual hug. “I’m guessing you’ll want to talk for awhile. Should I bring your surfboard down with me or leave it here?”

“Oh, take it, please. I’ll take the towels and the food and be down soon.”

“You still there?” Buffy asked Willow, as Spike went to the balcony and grabbed their boards.

“Yeah, I’m just sort of wigging out to hear Spike’s voice. Wow, he sounds so…alive.”

When the front door shut behind Spike, Buffy pulled out a dining room chair and sat down. Thinking of the fun they’d had before they got out of bed, Buffy blushed. “He’s very much alive.”

“So… Official retirement, huh?”

“Yeah. I think it’s about time.”

“I guess hooking up with Spike again has nothing to do with it?”

“It has everything to do with it. I’m in love and I want to enjoy every minute we have together. Though I’m sure when the next apocalypse begins, I’ll get a call.”

“I’m sure you will. We’ll need you then.”

“Really? Faith or even Kennedy could take the lead, no problem,” Buffy said, leaning back against the chair.

Willow took a deep breath and asked, “So, what do you have planned now?”

“Well, we leave for New York in two days to get ready for the launch of Spike’s second book. He’s got a ton of interviews to do. Mostly magazines and newspapers, but he’s going to be on the Today Show.”

“That’s just crazy. If I hadn’t seen those pictures on his website, I wouldn’t believe it’s him—you two look great by the way. Spike does look good with a tan and in the sun too.”

Gage had suggested that they get a photographer to capture one of their days at the beach and the agent had specifically asked that Buffy be in the pictures. He’d come up with the idea one night last week while they were having dinner with his family in Laguna Beach. The pictures had gone up just last night and Buffy had emailed Willow with a link.

“When we get back from New York, we’re going house hunting.” She hoped she didn’t sound too excited. People went house hunting all the time. Just not her.

“Where are you planning to move to?” Willow said.

“Well, since I convinced the manager here to let me use the old aerobics room to hold self-defense classes, I need to stay in the area. There are some nice little homes just down the beach from here that are right off the shore like our apartment. We’re hoping to get one of those, and Spike is confident that we will since most people rent for the summer only.”

“And here, we’re going to be stuck in rainy London.”

Buffy could almost see her friend’s pout.

“They don’t need Kennedy in Asia anymore?”

“Nope. One of the slayers, Stacey, is taking charge tomorrow and we’re traveling back to headquarters. Giles wants Kennedy to take your spot in Ireland in a couple of months. Andrew’s there now, but everything’s falling apart. Giles sent Meneeko, but she’s really not ready to be a head slayer yet.”

Buffy knew her friend wasn’t trying to lay a guilt trip on her, but even if she had been, it wouldn’t have worked. She was drifting on a cloud of love and contentment and nothing anyone said could bring her back down to earth.

“Well, when we get a place and get settled, I want you and Kennedy to come and stay with us for a week or two. Giles couldn’t deny you two a vacation before this new assignment.”

“I don’t know, he might. You went on vacation and look what happened. You never came back,” Willow said through giggles.

“True, but we should all have more vacation time than we get. Even if it makes Giles unhappy.”

“Yep. Giles is not a cheerful guy right now, but what I want to know is, are you happy?”

Buffy put a lock of her hair behind her ear and smiled softly. “I am happy, Willow. Very, very happy.”

-The End-