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“You actually like Raman noodles? Are you insane or something?”

“Thought you’d already made up your mind on that one,” Spike said, smirking as he tossed the small box into the cart.

“Well, yeah,” Buffy admitted. “But now I’m positive. No one eats Raman noodles. The Ramans didn’t eat Raman noodles!”

Spike chuckled. He was so glad he’d brought her to the store. Pickin’ up grub was turning out to be much more entertaining than usual. “Pet, I don’t think there’s any such thing as Ramans.”

She pouted, sticking that delectable lower lip out. Spike glanced quickly away.

“If there aren’t Ramans, there should be,” she announced, before pointing and squealing: “Oooh, Spike, Chocolate Lucky Charms! Let’s get those!”

He eyed them disdainfully. “That’s kiddy food!”

“It’s chocolatey goodness,” she corrected, grabbing a box and dropping it in the cart.

“’ey, just wait a second,” he protested. “’M not buyin’ a bunch of junk food, ‘ve got a limited budget...bugger,” he groaned as she stared up at him with those huge green eyes. How in hell was he supposed to resist her when she looked like that? “Fine,” he growled, scowling.

In an instant, a brilliant smile took over her face, and Spike found himself again fighting the urge to press her up against the cereal boxes lining the wall and kiss her senseless. God, he’d never be able to refuse her anything if she kept it up with the lip and the eyes. he could see them as old people, her begging for flavored dentures, and him trying to say no but not being able to...

He froze when he realized just what he’d been thinking about. He couldn’t possibly think that he and Buffy would last till old age, could he? They hadn’t even made love yet.

But when he glanced over at her and saw her surveying the shelves with just as much enthusiasm as other girls would have used when gazing at the Grand Canyon, he could picture spending the rest of forever with her. He really, honestly could.

And that made him wonder: just exactly how insane was he? He hadn’t thought he was completely insane—but with all the thoughts of Buffy and spending eternity with her, he was starting to wonder.

Buffy glanced over at him. “What’cha thinking about?” she asked, sliding in between him and the cart and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He smiled down at her. “You, kitten.”

“What about me?”

Now her fingers were tracing the scar on his eyebrow. Bloody hell, he could barely think when she did that. “Nothin’ much, just wondering what ‘m gonna do now,” he told her, grabbing her fingers and bringing them to her lips.

“Do about what?” she asked.

Spike opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment his cell phone rang. He must have made a face, because when he flipped it open, Buffy was giggling.

“What?”

“Wow. The day must have sucked more than Anya told me.”

“Bit.” He relaxed and shot a frown at the still-giggling Buffy, though he didn’t really mean it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Well, everybody else is practically having an apoplectic fit ‘cuz you’re not at the house,” Dawn told him. “Where are you, anyway?”

“At the grocery store,” he told her. “Pickin’ up some food for when me and Goldilocks get hungry.”

“Ew, pet name,” Dawn groaned. “What? Willow, I can’t—Xander!” Spike heard a few thumping noises, and then Dawn was yelling something about eating skin in the background.

“Spike, man, where are you?” Xander yelled.

Spike winced, pulling his cell phone away from his ear. “’ey, quiet down,” he ordered Xander. “And gimme Dawn again, we were talkin’.”

“You were chatting,” Xander corrected. “Look, I have no idea why Ayn let Dawn be the one to call, but there’s a big problem. Why aren’t you at your apartment?”

Spike scowled. Concerned, Buffy mouthed, ‘What’s going on?’ Spike shook his head at her.

Which caused her to pout and start nibbling on his earlobe. When he spoke again to Xander, his voice was choked. “Look, ‘ve got the bare necessities, so we’ll be back soon ‘s possible, a’right?”

“Something wrong, Spike?”

“Wrong. no. Why would anything be wrong?” he issued his denial quickly, his voice high-pitched.

“Dunno, but you sound kinda...out of breath,” Xander said. Then, in a moment of surprising cleverness, he asked, “Hey, didn’t you say the Buffster was there with you?”

“’ll be there in a few, Xander. Bye.” Spike hung up as quickly as possible, ignoring the whelp’s indignant yellin’. As soon as his phone was safely in his pocket he scowled down at the woman in his arms.

“You tryin’ to give all the kiddies here a show?” he demanded, sweeping an arm out for extra emphasis.

“Did you enjoy it?” she countered with a sly smile.

He had her wrapped in his arms and was kissing her deeply in less than a second. God, but she tasted so wonderful. She was so strong, so amazing—even as she melted into his arms, she returned his kiss with passion enough to rival his.

After a few breathless moments, Buffy pulled away. Spike looked up to find that this time, they’d garnered quite a large audience. Three tots were standing in front of the cart, staring at them with open mouths.

One of them, a small girl with wispy brown hair, spoke up. “Mister, are you and the pretty lady married?”

Buffy smiled down at them. “No, we’re just—“

“My mommy says you shouldn’t do that unless you’re married,” a blonde boy announced, deep disapproval on his face.

Spike glared at him. Stupid little bugger. “Well, your mum’s bug-shaggin’ crazy,” Spike snapped at him. “Now, run along!”

Apparently he was more menacing than he’d thought, because they ran out at high speed. Buffy turned to him with a frown on her pretty little face. “That wasn’t very nice,” she informed him flatly.

Spike shrugged. “Tots shouldn’t question their elders. ‘Sides, I was enjoyin’ our little interlude.” He bent his head and kissed her again, drawing her lower lip into his mouth and groaning. He could stay with her like this all day...

After a moment, though, he pulled away. “Whelp said something ‘bout an emergency,” he explained when his girl started to pout.

“Oh,” Buffy said, and they exited the supermarket quickly, holding hands.

~*~

They were jumped on as soon as they entered the apartment—a horrible event to Buffy’s way of thinking, since they were both loaded down with bags.

Anya plopped her hands on her hips and accosted them as soon as the door opened. “Where the hell were you? I know I couldn’t trust you two to not have many orgasms if I left you in the house together!”

“Ew, Anya!” Buffy squealed, though actually, that many orgasms thing was a nice visual. Mm, orgasm-ey Spike...

“We were just shoppin’,” Spike informed his sister, and set the bags down on the table.

“Hey, the stud’s gone all domestic.” Faith grinned at him, and for some weird reason, Buffy felt like growling and clawing Faith’s eyes out. It was probably the fact that the sultry brunette wore a shirt that showed an absolute ton of cleavage, and she was currently shoving it in her man’s face.

“Wow, Buffy, chill,” Cordelia advised, coming up to stand next to her. “Faith’s, like, a complete slut, but she’d not going to try to move in on Spike.”

“How do you know?” Buffy grated out, staring daggers at Faith.

“I’m psychic,” Cordy shot back sarcastically, then tugged on Buffy’s arm. “Come on, Buffy, there’s a really big problem and we’re all going to die if we don’t talk about it! And hello, if we die and my hair gets messed up all because of you, you’re so gonna pay!”

Buffy just cocked an eyebrow at her friend, an expression she’d picked up from Spike. “Wow, Cordy, stick one more like in that sentence and you’ll start sounding like Harmony.”

“What? I so do not!” she fumed. “Willow!”

The redhead poked her head out of the kitchen. “Yeah, Cordy?”

“Tell Little Miss Buffy that I am nothing like Harmony!” Cordelia demanded.

Willow’s eyes looked about ready to pop out of her head. Buffy fought the urge to giggle. Poor Willow couldn’t lie if her life depended on it. “Well,” she stuttered. “You have very different...um...hair, and, and you were way more popular than she was in high school, and you probably don’t have the same bloody type—oh! or the same molecular construction, so that’s good, and—“

“Oh my God, you’re so not helping.” Cordelia turned to Spike. “Can we just get on with this whole meeting thing? I’ve got a spa date with Lorne coming up.”

“Lorne goes to spas? Oh, bad visual!” Dawn wrinkled her nose.

Buffy just surveyed the scene, laughing. There probably was an emergency going on, but everyone treated it as a day-to-day thing. There were no gloomy faces, no heroic statements. These people were just doing their job. It was a big change from the LAPD, where everyone was always all West Wing-ey. She decided she liked it.

Their banter was interrupted when the phone rang. Tara, who’d for the most part been staying out of the mini-argument, grabbed it. “Hello?”

Everyone in the room fell silent as Tara’s eyes grew wider and wider. “I’m not—sorry—I-I th-think you may have the wrong number,” she stuttered into the phone.

Kennedy narrowed her eyes. “I’m betting they don’t.” She grabbed the phone and snapped, “Look, you fucking bastards, I don’t know how you got this number, but stay away, or the pointy end of a knife is going to do some serious connecting with your ribcage. Got it?” Without waiting for an answer, she slammed the phone back down in its cradle.

“Fucking LAPD,” she said in response to everyone’s questioning glances.

“And I’m thinking that’s not good,” Xander said.

“They know it’s us, and they were threatening Tara.”

“Guess it’s time.” Willow came out of the kitchen. Buffy looked at her in surprise; her old friend’s face was grim and purposeful.

Everyone followed her, except Buffy. She stood stock-still in the foyer, staring at the suddenly dangerous-looking people in front of her.

Spike passed her, a smirk firmly in place. She fought the urge to smack it off—or maybe kiss it...

“’Smatter, pet? Scared to learn the nice, fluffy corporation’s got claws?”

She scowled at him. “More liked shocked. Half the time you guys seem like a joke.”

“Well, ‘m not playin’ now. The lap-dancers’re serious business.” Spike’s face was grimmer than she’d ever seen it.

“Good, because I’m about ready to make with the seriousness.” Buffy put on a stubborn face.

“Let’s go, then.”

They sat down on the couch together. When Xander opened his mouth to speak, Buffy could sense the new tension in the air.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Apparently someone followed us here, or maybe Veruca heard something on those tapes. I don’t know. What I do know is that the LAPD knows where we are, that we’ve got Buffy, and they’re not backing down until they get us, once and for all.”

“So what, we’re talkin’ war?” Faith’s eyes were troubled, but Buffy was surprised to notice that among the disquiet there was a hint of excitement.

“Yep.” Xander’s one syllable should have sounded flip, but somehow it made shivers run up and down Buffy’s spine. Spike wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed tight; she smiled happily. Somehow, even the tough cop part of her appreciated having someone to lean on.

“But, we’re still safe, right? I mean, the LAPD have never, never actually tried to hurt us, because that would make everyone know that they’re evil, which isn’t there goal...right?” Willow’s voice turned upward, ending on a pleading note.

“Actually, I think Xander’s trying to tell us we’re doomed,” Cordelia said helpfully.

Anya sent her a dirty look. “I was going to say that,” she grumbled. “It’s my job to state the painfully obvious that no one else wants to say.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve just been replaced,” Cordelia shot back. “Because hello, I went out with Xander first, I should be able to—“

“Oh please, like that matters.” Dawn rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for the backup, but since you’re fifteen and therefore extremely inexperienced, I’d rather fight with Cordelia without your help.”

“Guys, you’re losing focus!” Kennedy’s annoyed voice added to the increasing noise. “Am I the only one who remembers we’re about to be killed by an evil police force?”

“Pipe down, Kennedy, we’re not gonna get iced just yet,” Faith snapped.

“Hey, here’s a novel idea. Why don’t you pipe down?” Kennedy yelled.

Buffy stared at them in disbelief. Wow. Maybe West Wing-ey-ness was to be preferred. They were totally out of control.

“Blondie?”

“Yeah?” Ooh, she loved all the pet names he had for her. She couldn’t believe they used to annoy her.

“You might wanna cover up your ears.”

Buffy obeyed, wondering what he was going to do. She’d seen him pull some pretty wiggy stuff, but what could he possibly do to make everyone shut up?

She got her answer a second later, when Spike let loose the loudest roar she’d ever heard from a human being: “SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP AND SIT YOUR ARSES DOWN BEFORE I KILL YOU ALL MYSELF!”

She’d have sworn there were crickets chirping in the silence that followed his bellow.

“Good,” Spike said, a moment later. Buffy noticed with surprise that he didn’t seem the least bit hoarse. “Now, pay attention, because ‘f I have to repeat m’self, you’re gonna regret it.

“Obviously the LAPD has decided to stop playin’ nice. So, we’ll stop too. We’re not gonna go into LA, that’d be stupid. But I want all of you packing ammo at all times. We can’t make the first move ‘cuz if we do we’ll get arrested by Captain bleeding Rayne. Soon ‘s he starts movin’ against us, though, he’ll find out just exactly what we’re made of.” He looked around at everyone. Buffy was surprised to see that the usually quarrelsome group was tranquil and completely agreeable to Spike’s non-plan.

Well, she wasn’t. “That’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.”

Eight pairs of eyes affixed themselves on her. “Excuse me?” Spike asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“I said, stupid plan. Because hello! No matter how much ammunition you guys have, if Rayne decides to take you out, he’ll be on you like that.” Buffy snapped her fingers. “People who wait for the enemy to make the first move are the people who lose.”

“That what they told you in the LAPD? It doesn’t work like that here, pet.”

“Hate to say it, Buffster, but Spike’s right,” Xander admitted. “We’ve gotta lay low or we will all die.”

“Hey, I’m with you, B.” Faith flicked her lighter open and shut, open and shut. “I don’t play nice and I don’t lie low.”

“Which is why you’re going to die young,” Anya pointed out. “Spike’s plan is good,” she informed Buffy. “And even if it wasn’t, you’re not supposed to say anything, because he’s our leader.”

Buffy’s anger was rising. Spike came up with the most asinine plan in the history of the planet and everyone except skanky Faith takes his side? “Well, he’s not my leader,” she snapped before anyone else could try to tell her what to do.

She realized instantly what a mistake she’d made. Everyone in the room gasped, and Spike turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. “If ‘m not your leader, then exactly who are you working for?” he asked in a dangerous voice.

“I’m not working for anyone! I work with people, Spike, and if you can’t accept that—“

“Um, Buffy? You kinda have to accept that Spike’s the boss, not the other way around,” Willow cut in tentatively.

Buffy stared at her best friend—former best friend, now. She couldn’t believe it. First Spike tried to make her fall in line, and now Willow!? Were they all against her?

She looked around helplessly. Part of her acknowledged that no one looked really mad at her, just a bit mystified because of her seeming rebellion. Most of her was still reeling from the events of the day, though, and what she was a room full of people who didn’t know her and didn’t trust her.

They didn’t trust her, that was it. They thought she was still all buddy-buddy with stupid Captain Rayne. Well, she’d show them. She didn’t need any of them, not Willow, not Xander, not Dawn...not even Spike. She leapt up off the couch.

“I have to get out of here,” she said wildly. “I can’t—this is—“ she took a deep breath before speaking the one thought on her mind: “This isn’t where I belong.”

It was a long time before she realized what those words meant to everyone in the room except her. To her, they just meant escape. Getting out, getting some air so she could make sense of the whole Spike-is-the-boss thing. Before anyone could gainsay her, she ran out of the door.

She leapt down the stairs at top speed. She wasn’t actually planning on leaving forever, just long enough to sort some things out. Hearing Spike in there, not even talking about violence against her former boss, only advocating passive resistance—just that had made her crazy.

And then she’d wanted nothing more than to just crush the LAPD, once and for all. Something inside of her, the little voice that never really stopped telling the truth, knew that her response had been completely illogical. Spike’s plan was the good one. They couldn’t just destroy the LAPD. It was too dangerous.

And now she was running, not really trying to get anywhere, just dying to make some sense of the confusion whirling through her.

Spike lusted after her. The events of that morning made it plenty obvious. But at the same time, he was willing to be Mr. Commando-Guy and give orders that she didn’t really want to obey. She was used to making her own rules. That was what cops did.

Could she reconcile her independence with the fact that her would-be boyfriend had every right to order her around sometimes?

She reached the park and sat down in a swing, moving back and forth disconsolately. Nothing inside her would settle.

The moon shone brightly, washing everything in silver, but at the same time creating impenetrable shadows.

And as Buffy stared off into the distance, one of those shadows detached itself from the others and floated toward her.

“The dark moves around you. It twists, hissing, cah, cah, cah.” The voice was female, and more British than Spike’s.

Buffy leapt off the swing and pulled out her gun. “Who’s there?”

“Tsk, tsk,” the figure scolded. “Not polite, shattering the night with fire. The moon whispers in the night. Doesn’t like the sunshine. Doesn’t like the pretty glowing girl.”

Okay, Buffy didn’t know who the hell this woman was, but she was starting to get really annoying. “Show yourself. Now!”

“The sun is angry. It doesn’t like the darkness.” The shadowy woman took a step forward into the silver light. Buffy inhaled sharply. She knew this woman. She’d seen her before—in the picture she’d found in Spike’s drawer.

She wore a filmy white dress that somehow fit her, though it would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. Her dark hair and dreamy features only accentuated her seeming insanity. “Who are you?” Buffy demanded.

The woman smiled. “A friend of Spike’s,” she whispered. “Naughty, naughty Spike. Leaving me alone for the stars and the moon, swimming about...” She began to sway. “Swimming all around, like a little fishy...have you ever seen a fishy? I had one once, but it died. And then I cried, and my Spike...but he doesn’t love me anymore. He loves the light now, the light and all that is saintly and pure.” Suddenly her insane gaze focused on Buffy. “Take me to him,” she ordered, abruptly regal. “Take me to my Spike. He’s been a very bad boy, and now Mummy shall have to punish him.”

It was settled. This was one—what was that phrase Spike always used? Oh, yeah: This was one bug-shagging crazy chick. “How about we...um...get you inside. You must be cold, right? And then you and Spike can talk and maybe figure out all the naughty-boy weird stuff, okay?” Buffy spoke quickly, trying to get some sense into the crazy woman’s head. Actually, she doubted the wisdom of bringing her to Spike, but really, what the hell else was she supposed to do? The woman had obviously known him, so it wasn’t like she didn’t know about the so-called secret headquarters. And even if she did, well, that cat was already totally out of the bag anyway.

She ignored the voice in her head that said she was only helping Miss Insane-o because she wanted to have an excuse to talk to Spike without him yelling at her.

“You’ll take me to my Spike?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Buffy tried hard to smile.

“How very kind of you. Such a nice piece of sunshine.” The woman smiled at her vacantly and allowed Buffy to take her arm.

“Um, his house is this way,” Buffy told her, and began to lead her back to the apartment.

She was so distracted trying to figure out what she’d say to Spike that she didn’t notice the knife that Drusilla slipped back into its sheath in the folds of her dress.

~*~

A/N: OK, kind of a mini-cliffhanger. And yeah, the whole Drusilla thing is gonna go places. I just got done re-watching a few eps of S7 and I’ve decided that crazy people are fun to write :) Sorry for any typos, didn’t proofread this chapter very well. Thanx to Cordykitten, Shippy, and Bleh for the reviews!





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