He smelt Angelus while on his way to shelter. Feeling buoyed with spirit and a half cocked plan, Spike had wandered during the remaining night while he searched for an acceptable place to sleep. Somewhere that was far enough away from the caterwauling tripe Dru would no doubt be squealing and the possible meeting of his family line. Instead, he’d almost tripped over the stench of Angelus while traipsing around the Hellmouth too close to dawn. Spike was just thankful the poof kept his distance. He’d had enough daft lessons in spinning lies for one night.
Truthfully, he still didn’t know how to go about any reunion with his grandsire. They’d parted at a time when the foundations of their little foursome were slipping through each of their control. Angelus had left in the night while the rest were out hunting. Sure, Darla hadn’t been quiet in her efforts to shame him out of their existence, but truthfully, Spike hadn’t really believed he would go. At least, not without Dru.
Kicking Angelus from the pack had hidden Darla’s true agenda. She’d wanted to bolt and couldn’t be upfront about it, which was pretty true to form with the former prostitute. She’d never been the type to come out and be forthright. Underhanded and seductively dishonest, that was the granddame of their little family.
Without even meaning to, Spike stopped at the door of a crypt. It wasn’t the ideal place, being so far from the nearest shade if he needed to make a quick exit while the sun was out, but it would do in a pinch. He could always go looking for something else the next night, when he knew the lay of the land a little better. All he really needed was somewhere that no one would think to look for him. And if he couldn’t escape during the day, then Dru wouldn’t be able to locate him till he’d managed to think through what he’d done.
Managed to sort out his thoughts in relation to the Slayer.
She was perky, and he liked it. Not enough to let her live, mind. But enough to indulge in some fun. And the kind of fun he could envision with this Slayer had his mind and body turning in twists. The way she’d looked at him hadn’t been different to other women over the years—right before he’d revealed himself and ripped out their throats. That gush of horror mixed with attraction was an unbelievable high. No, not a different look, just more unusual for her already knowing what he was—assumed soul or no.
This time the game had changed. He’d unwittingly set himself up in an experiment that had provided him with time he’d never utilised before. Time he’d wasted with the quick kill. Drawing the Slayer out would be fun. It would be righteous to his vampire code.
It would be what Angelus had endeavoured to teach him over twenty long years of humiliation. And that thought alone froze his blood. That and the mental image of the Slayer’s friends staring at him with hurt for making them trust him when he was nothing but a cold-blooded killer. That look of horror wasn’t there when he imagined their deaths; only the hurt that a friend had turned on them. It made him uncomfortable and Spike was hard pressed to understand why. It’s what he was, what he did. Trick humans into trusting him before diving in for the kill. He existed for the blood. He lived through depriving others of the privilege and he had never felt guilty about it before.
Now he’d crossed paths with Buffy.
Buffy. He couldn’t even let his brain go down the path of laughter and sarcasm. He’d read a subtle perfection in her name and he couldn’t take the fun in its silliness like he would have ordinarily. That she’d shared it with him—and under the circumstances of hopeful friendship—hit him deeper than he’d liked. However, it shifted the balance and he suspected this eagerness of hers for him to know her as a girl was what was causing his sudden attack of conscience. He had to banish it and get back to normal. He’d kill someone when he awoke—somewhere out of her view of course. Wouldn’t do to blow the cover now he’d been received with open arms.
The distant alarm of pending sunlight made him drowsy and Spike found his way to the top of a sarcophagus. Letting his coat slip down his arms, he wadded it into a pillow and shoved it under his head. Arms flexed, he propped them under his skull and contemplated the ceiling. It was the first time he’d slept alone since Angelus was around to remind him Dru wasn’t really his. Having her infidelity shoved in his face over and over had weakened him, yet made him determined to make her love him. Now it was a century later, and he’d never achieved that goal. And now the paternal figure of their family was back in range; Spike just knew it would balls up everything he’d gotten used to over the years.
Weary blue eyes were shaded by lids determined to close and Spike shut down his unhappy thoughts, eager to get the rest that would bring him back to the situation refreshed and hopefully full of plans. Hoped the night would bring him back to the Big Bad that he seemed to have lost sight of at the appearance of his fake soul.
And the little blonde that would dust him if she ever sniffed out the truth.
The thought of her hate suddenly seemed wrong; painful. He just needed some sleep to get it all back into perspective. As the last remnants of conscious thought drifted away, Spike knew he’d wake up with a renewed desire to sink his fangs into the Slayer. He just needed forty winks and then his world would be back to rights.
Then he’d be back to being Spike.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Her dreams had been filled with the relentless swagger of a vamp she couldn’t stop thinking about. Buffy blinked sleepily before sinking back into her pillows and conjuring his image in her mind. His hair was radioactive, but it kinda suited him in a weird retro fashion. And that coat—she’d die to have a thing of beauty like that. Except maybe more on the newer side of the cow. And those eyes—they burned her insides despite being of an arctic blue. And it didn’t take much imagination to picture the muscular build hidden under his eclectic wardrobe. He suited black, and he was just too yummy for words.
Thinking of how obvious she’d been in her attraction brought a high flush to her cheeks and Buffy groaned aloud. Why did she find it so difficult to think after the fact? Usually she was so level-headed around the underworld, but the thought of this one demon with lips that were full and she just knew could kiss like sin had completely thrown her. He had a soul, so that made it okay…
Didn’t it?
Buffy smiled. Of course it did. He was one of them. Fighting on the side of justice alongside the good guys—and he was as hot as hell. She couldn’t believe her luck.
“Buffy. Hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”
Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs with all the dream shattering effects of a Jumanji stampede and Buffy groaned as she rolled from her bed. School: the necessary evil. Until two days ago, she’d been all set to be Normal Girl and do nothing but casually fail her classes like everyone else in her grade. With the abrupt acceptance of her duty in this new place, she’d shot that mission all to hell. Now that she’d managed to initiate her schoolmates to the realities of their nightmares. As well as get one of them hospitalised. It sure beat attending Jesse’s funeral, though. And now that she knew these people, refusing to try to keep them safe just seemed petty. And who could refuse to fight off the forces of evil when she suddenly had the likes of Spike by her side?
The thought of late night patrols with him by her side, his coat subtly battering her legs—which meant she’d be walking super close to him—really made her destiny something exciting for a change. She’d lived through the downright frightening aspect of it, and now with the prospect of romance, she could see more pluses than minuses to being a chosen one. Well, that was settled then. The Slayer was in heavy duty crush mode. Now she could drive herself crazy wondering if the sexy hot vampire felt even a little of the same excitement over meeting her.
She could find out when she dragged him out to patrol with her tonight. If he was all with the soul having, and being a white hat, then he wouldn’t mind watching her back. It’d be more than nice to have someone looking out for her for a change. Especially if it ended up that he was just as happy to watch her front as well. Buffy knew that she could pass out with delirious satisfaction if she could do some major watching of him, too.
It was amazing what a bit of Spike preoccupation could do for her ‘getting to school on time’ skills. Dressing, trading the usual side-step conversation with her mother at breakfast and heading off to school had all passed in a peroxide and black leather blur. Not that she would complain, except for when Giles raised an eyebrow and gave her the adult look of suspicion.
“See, ordinarily I couldn’t do this. The talk. About vampires. A talk with vampires in it. But meeting Spike, gave me a bit of hope, you know? Sure, the other guys were bad, all with the spooky…and the fangs…and the putting Jesse in hospital, but how freaking romantic to have a vampire with a soul save us all. I love this guy. You think he’d mind having a groupie?” Xander looked eagerly at Buffy, hope and excitement making her want to laugh.
They’d gotten passed the ‘demon’s are a human form possessed’ discussion and had flown straight into the ‘how is this possible’ conversation regarding the existence of souled vampires.
“I am certain you were rather lucky this Spike came along when he did. It sounds like disaster may have occurred without his help. But still, it is surprising that I haven’t heard of his existence before.” Giles’s posturing left the teens to shrug noncommittally as they became lost in thought.
Jesse was in the hospital still, though he’d be getting out by that afternoon. But surviving a close call didn’t mean that Buffy could avoid the job of finding out exactly what last night was about. She’d almost lost three of her new friends in one night and that reality didn’t sit well with her inherent slayerness and sense of responsibility. She may hate her life now, may hate her destiny, but if she could do something to make sure her friends were tucked up safe in bed at night, then she had a duty she couldn’t ignore.
And in typical freaky fashion, the conversation turned on its head—pushed away from the glorification of souled vampires and the romance of it all—to the guessing of what Buffy was.
Giles stood before them, all heart attack serious in his regulation tweed. “For as long as there have been vampires, there's been the Slayer. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One.”
“He likes doing this part.” Buffy didn’t mean to mock, but it was so easy to do while he glared at her with lack of humour. With impatience and frustration.
“All right. The Slayer hunts vampires, Buffy is a slayer, don't tell anyone. Well, I think that's all the vampire information you need.”
Xander begged to differ. “Except for one thing. How do you kill them?”
She thought they knew this part. “You don’t. I do.”
Xander was going to argue, and by doing that, he did bring up Jesse. They’d been so lucky the previous night. If Spike hadn’t been there, Buffy had no doubts the blonde vampire with the trashy school girl look would have dragged her new friends into Hell. If not terrifying them before their death, then recreating them in the face of evil. Still, it brought back the focus and what she still had to do.
“This big guy, Luke. He talked about an offering to the Master. Now, I don't know what or who, but if they weren't just feeding then Jesse and Willow may have been a planned sacrifice or something. I'm gonna find where they were going to take them.”
As much as she liked Willow, Buffy felt like rolling her eyes when the redhead suggested leaving the situation to the police to resolve. That would go nowhere near making Sunnydale safer and eradicating whatever this episode of badness was. If anything, it could make the bad occur faster by supplying whoever with a large group of useless officers for lunch. So, with minimal pointing out of stupidity, they moved on, trying to find a clue where to start the search. A lucky thing Buffy was switched onto the entirely too strange habits of the undead. A little technology and Buffy was ready and able with a place to start.
That didn’t mean it made sense.
“There’s nothing here, this is useless.” She felt useless.
“I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself.” Coming from a watcher, the words seemed far too forgiving.
“You're the one that told me that I wasn't prepared enough. Understatement!” It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d actually been paying attention. Slaying wasn’t just about the fight—and the death—of the creatures of the night. It was about foiling plots and making the world safe. Now that she’d decided to live with the inevitable, these were things Buffy felt she’d have to try honing her skills at. The observation skills that may keep herself and her friends alive. “I thought I was on top of everything, and then that monster, Luke, came out of nowhere...” And who said she was as dumb as Harmony? Light bulbs flashed in her brain and Buffy had her starting point.
Buffy stood still as she thought over her almost fatal fight with Luke. Until an exasperated Xander leaped in and jumpstarted her to consciousness.
“What?”
“He didn't come out of nowhere. He came from behind me. I was facing the entrance, he came from behind me, and he didn't follow me out. The access to the tunnels is in the mausoleum! The girl must have doubled back and escaped through there while we were distracted with Jesse and Spike! God! I am so mentally challenged!”
Dammit, nobody disagreed with her. And she was meant to be all accepting that they wanted to jump the superhero wagon and come seek out the baddies with her? Hell no. Not likely.
She sliced through all their objections with unintentional putdowns, leaving Xander feeling inadequate—and that kind of made her giggle on the inside—and left them with Giles to feel important in the fight against darkness by researching The Harvest. She’d almost forgotten creepy stalker guy and his warnings of vague doom.
Which was kinda dumb she soon found when he snuck up behind her in the crypt.
She could have sworn that there was no one behind her, but as she rattled the chain on the entrance to the underground tunnels, he snuck up behind her, his unnecessary breath exhaling on a note of expectation. First impressions had Buffy seeing him as some weird guy who stalked her in the shadows. This time she got a better look as he stood in a more moderately lit area, the sun beating down on the stone building from the outside. Maybe if she’d never met Spike, she could have considered him good-looking. Maybe. As it was, Buffy found it hard to think of him as anything but creepy. In that sleazy way you do when someone sneaks up behind you on an increasingly regular basis.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got a key on you,” she asked by way of making conversation. Buffy almost didn’t expect him to answer, but if he did, being vague was really what she’d counted on. He didn’t disappoint her.
“They really don’t like me dropping in.”
That smirk was really off-putting.
“Why not?” If he knew what was down there—who was down there—then how come he kept his distance? Suddenly the thought of beating him for less obscure information seemed like a good plan. If nothing else it would let loose some frustration. Pity she wasn’t allowed to just go attacking innocent bystanders, even if they did annoy her with their obscure warnings.
“They really don’t like me.” He smiled.
Weird much? She didn’t know who this guy was or what his game was, but he was starting to spook her. Who followed young girls around cemeteries and into crypts to deliver such inane conversation and without asking her what she was doing? Better yet, how did he know all this stuff? Buffy could see through his game, though. He was playing with her, teasing her with half-delivered information and seeing what she would do with it. He knew the secret plans of these vamps who’d tried to eat her friends, and yet he hung around on the outside of the gathering. No, he was way beyond creepy. He was psychotic. She needed to be wary of this guy and watch that he didn’t attack her. Who knew what to expect from the crazies of Sunnydale?
“How could that possibly be?” Sarcasm obviously hadn’t been diverted by the simple calm placating that a wary slayer should have reverted to. Buffy’s mouth—as usual—was working faster than her brain, still she felt reasonably safe around him for now. Just.
“I knew you'd figure out this entryway sooner or later. Actually, I thought it was gonna be a little sooner.”
He was so smug, and she so did work this out fast. Nobody else had.
“Sorry you had to wait.” Buffy tried to be patient, but this guy was ruining her plans. “Okay. Look, if you're gonna be popping up with this Cryptic Wise Man act on a regular basis, can you at least tell me your name?” She watched him expectantly, all manner of possibilities running through her head. He looked like a…Ralph. Or maybe a Derrek.
“Angel.” The name flowed from his lips with a certainty that Buffy really questioned. As if anyone would name their baby Angel, knowing that one bright and shiny day that Angel would be a man.
Still, Spike hadn’t laughed at her name the night before, even though she could see that he’d initially wanted to. Wasn’t like she hadn’t had that happen before.
“Angel. It’s a pretty name.” So is, though slightly inappropriate for a large man with an evil leer and the distinct absence of wings on his back. Still, talking about names and remembering Spike’s reaction to hers wasn’t getting the info she needed. She needed to put the puzzle together, and getting the intel from dark and broody wasn’t doing it for her.
She turned back to the entrance of the cavern and held her breath. She really didn’t want to go down there.
“Don’t…go down there.” He spoke with a small edge of concern in his voice and it stopped Buffy in her tracks.
“Deal with my going.” He really should not be trying to tell her how to do her job. And who the hell was he anyway? She had his name but no rank and serial number.
“You shouldn't be putting yourself at risk. Tonight is the Harvest. Unless you can prevent it, the Master walks.”
And there he was again with the cryptic messages and the knowing so much more of what was going down in this town than she or her watcher did. That so wasn’t right.
“Well, if this Harvest thing is such a suckfest, why don't you stop it?”
It really wouldn’t bother her if someone else wanted a go at stopping the damage-bound monsters of the world from unleashing hell on earth. It wasn’t like she was a control freak and just had to stop all the bad guys.
“’Cause I’m afraid.” And the Angel grinned.
Buffy smiled, even though she couldn’t work out if he was kidding or truly worried. Still, if he didn’t want to help, and he didn’t want to tell her about this Harvest thing, then she was probably going to be making a big mistake by diving into a situation that she had no understanding of. It was just an assumption, but there could be a whole horde of vamps down there. Until she had more of an idea—or someone at her back—it would be foolish to take off into the unknown. She was kinda glad this guy had stopped by to talk to her some more and give her time to think the plan out a bit better.
“You know what? I think you’re right. I won’t go down there just yet. I’ll wait till my partner can go with me.” Buffy stopped and felt an enormous smile consume her face. “He’s got a soul, you know!”
The Slayer completely missed the look of bafflement that swept across Angel’s face as she pivoted and almost bounced out of the crypt. She left him standing in the shadows, a finger pointing at his chest and his mouth flapping silent words of shock.
“A soul? But I’m the one with a soul.”
And he stared petulantly at the fading back of Buffy Summers as she skipped away, confused and frustrated that someone had apparently stolen his identity. And then another word hit him in the gut.
“Partner?”
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