The thing Buffy found most ironic about the past ten minutes was the fact that the cold air was burning her lungs. She never quite understood that about biology, or physiology…whatever study it was. The slayer didn’t finish high school so she couldn’t really tell you whether it was either or neither. Before she had dropped out, she’d have just looked to Willow for the answer anyway.
Buffy came to a halt on the pavement, bending over trying to catch a breath while resting her hands against the tops of her knees in front of her home. Spike was no longer going to follow her; she knew it in her blood. He was for the seduction, not the chase, and as much as he was a follow the gut type, she knew deep down that Spike would want her to come to him in the end. The scary part was that she did not understand why she knew this. It wasn’t an inkling feeling or the spidery sense things she always tried to explain to her former watcher. It was something tattooed in her subconscious, as if it had always been there. It was almost like it had been ‘switched on’ when it came to seeing him.
Buffy couldn’t tell you his life history, or what outfit he’d likely choose out of a line-up even though it was blatantly obvious. No, the stuff she knew was beyond that. And that’s what scared her more. The second he touched her hand, her skin had ignited that even the coldest air in the world could not cool. Something inside of her screamed for him, to ease whatever pain she had and make her simply feel again.
Ironic. An undead, a vampire, something that was supposed to be her mortal enemy could make her feel so alive. It annoyed her. Buffy had not experienced a connection with anyone since her mother had died. And it was with someone she had just met!
Though she couldn’t allow it, to feel something for somebody, especially one who could hold her heart in his hands. She had gotten so close to being everything for Angel and then he took off. Everyone left. Angel, her mother, and then her father kept her further away from him like she was made of the plague. Solitude was something the Slayer had gotten used to and driven everyone in her life to give her. As much it wasn’t by choice to break away from the others she had not exactly been in the position to forgive them. They had almost taken everything from her. Sure her best interests in mind, however letting someone close was dangerous.
Let alone from the fact that Spike was a vampire. She did not have to justify herself why things would not be happening. She chose to plead the fifth on the facts that the Slayer was supposed to be versus the vampire, not lover. And one that possibly knew Angel! Quite the awkward turtle.
William the Bloody. Slayer of slayers.
The latter made her blood run cold. She felt power from him the moment she met him, she couldn’t say why she didn’t figure he was a vampire, just the world’s way of dangling a treat in front of you but at an unreachable distance.
The piercing blue of his eyes as he perused her whole being in the alley was burned in the back of her mind. She almost wanted to cry at the imbalanced way this had all turned out. How could she possibly be so drawn to someone that she had met once at her sleazy place of work?
She looked up assessing her home encompassed in the abnormally cold night. The streetlights bounced off the street and showed a small amount of light on the house. It looked the same; she always made sure of that. The lawn stayed in good keep, and her mother’s car was parked in the exact same spot. It was when she stood in front of the house, just like this, that she could pretend it wasn’t empty. Sure she resided in it, but did she really live in the house anymore? Did she really live anymore?
Sighing Buffy watched as the trail of her breath lingered out in front of her as an airy little cloud.
She wanted to scream that it was all a ploy, lure her into a false sense of security and then he’d strike. It would make it something almost tangible that she could deal with. Because then she could fight him, make it a really good fight and be done with it.
The slayer repeated the mantra of “He’s an evil vampire, he’s an evil vampire…” but she couldn’t ignore the warm feeling on her hand where Spike had previously touched her.
“I think we did pretty good,” Willow observed as Oz, Xander, Anya, and she walked down the street and away from one of the many graveyards in Sunnydale. Xander held a crossbow to his side while the others carried various slaying weapons. Basics; stakes, crosses, and Anya even held a vile of holy water in her back pocket. “Six, really not bad.”
Oz in his usual quiet demeanor simply nodded his head, looking at Willow with loving adoration.
“Yeah I feel like we helped deplete those rising numbers,” Xander affirmed. “Certainly not in Slayer capabilities but hey for non-slaying people we did pretty damn good!”
“I don’t like that I was used for bait, but I agree I feel like I accomplished much help for humans. It’s a shame I’m not getting paid for this. I propose we talk to Giles and see if we can get the Watcher’s Council to pay us since the Slayer doesn’t seem to be doing her job.”
The three others stopped to look at Anya. Willow’s face was marred with horror while Xander looked like he wanted to smack his head repeatedly. Oz like always had a pretty much deadpanned expression.
“Ahn, the council doesn’t know about Buffy, or what has happened.” Xander tried to explain to his girlfriend.
Willow began to shift her weight from foot to foot looking uncomfortable at the thought of bringing the Watcher’s Council into the whole deal. “We can’t tell the council that Buffy’s quit working with Giles. They’ll send a re-con team…and do not very nice things to either get Buffy back into line or worse…” Willow couldn’t process the idea of what else the council could do. When Giles had informed them that they had to be hush-hush about Buffy no longer being under Giles’ supervision, and why, Willow had nearly thrown up her lunch.
“Ah yes, the Watchers Council, always with this sketchy agenda for something that was supposed to be of the good,” Anya said. The four of them continued on walking. “I once had a Slayer as a vengeance wish, apparently the council had killed-“
“Anya, please no ex-shop talk.” Xander cried out exasperated.
Anya huffed back in annoyance crossing her arms over her chest but she stayed quiet anyway. Since she had lost her powers she had hated feeling like the human she was now reduced to. In a roundabout way because of the slayer and she had yet to even meet the girl, which was the paradox of it all. She had come to Sunnydale when the wail of a lowly female demon’s cry for vengeance could be heard all over the world.
Anya, or known as a vengeance demon – Anyanka, normally didn’t take on fulfilling the desired vengeance wishes for the demon populace. But her cries had been so great; it was almost getting on her nerves while she was vacationing in China with her best friend Hallie. Besides it did happen occasionally. According to D’Hoffryn demons could sometimes make the best outcomes due to their wishes.
So she had popped into the demon’s home, literally, and found out what she could do. Apparently the current slayer – her now human boyfriend’s lost friend – had gone on all out slaying rampage the around the same time last year and killed this female’s mate. So the demon had made the wish for the Slayer to never have come to Sunnydale and poof, chaos had ensued, mayhem and death ruled over Sunnydale. D’Hoffryn had been quite pleased with the ending work if it had only just ended at that. Somehow the slayer had still ended up in Sunnydale, and with the help of who was supposed to be her watcher had smashed her pendant, which held all her powers.
So here she was stuck in rural Sunnydale, no longer with any powers, stuck living a human life with 1,000 plus years under her belt with nothing to really show for it. Though Anya felt she had adapted well. She had a goofy white-hat loving boyfriend. Sure he and his friends were a little close-minded on the demon populace, probably because they stemmed from working with the extensions of the council, but she was happy – plus Xander gave her many good orgasms. However it was inappropriate to talk about with those that didn’t partake in the bedroom fun.
Other than that she helped the Watcher, Giles, run a magic shop putting her favorite things together money and capitalism business with her knowledge of magic. And now, on nights like these she helped the Scooby gang do sweeps of the many cemeteries in Sunnydale. Anya wasn’t much of a fighter; in her old demon days if things got ugly she’d simply teleport out, which is probably why they used her as bait- a great ego booster that she was delectable in some way; silly vampires always thinking with their teeth. Though she had never laid eyes on Buffy, the slayer. Sure she’d seen pictures of her from Xander’s box of memories but the Slayer hadn’t been part of the group when Anya had come around. No one had disclosed to her why, just that there were differences, but it had to be something big. Upon arriving to Sunnydale for her last job, Anya could hear the cries of emotional pain coming from the Slayer, almost as loud as her vengeance client but that wasn’t her area to meddle with, Anya’s work was strictly that of women scorned by men. Anya had never disclosed that piece of information to her boyfriend and new friends.
The four of them walked down a resident street, deciding that their six vamps was good, and calling it a night. They rounded the corner and three that weren’t Anya didn’t even realize they were coming onto Revello Drive, they were all so knee deep in their own thoughts.
It was Willow who noticed first and both Xander and Anya nearly knocked into her when she pulled a complete stop on the sidewalk. Oz looked to where her deer-in-the-headlights stare was headed and then back at her.
Approximately two houses down, stood Buffy at the front of the walk up path to her own home. She was hunched over, her hands resting on her knees as she tried to breath deeply. She dressed as if she had just come from the Bronze, slimming jeans and red halter.
The group hadn’t said a word; afraid a noise would simply send her scampering away into the house, or worse. Xander couldn’t help but feel like he was witnessing some rare creature in it’s own habitat. They hadn’t seen the Slayer in so long and after presuming the worst of her being dead this past week it was a great relief to see she was still alive and kicking.
Willow wanted to reach out, go up to her, try anything to fix all that had gone wrong in the past year and a half but she couldn’t tell how Buffy would regard her and the others. Confused? Angry? Completely hostile? The last time they had all spoken, Buffy had practically spat at them to stay the hell away from her, and never to come near her again or they would really see how pissed off a Slayer could get. They took her threat at face value seeing as she had been holding the sharp point of a sword to Giles’ throat as she said it.
But she hadn’t reacted wrongly. They had nearly robbed her of everything with their stupidity, nearly made her a mere statistic to the Slayer line all because of their ‘care’ for her and their desire to help. Hell Willow would look at herself with disgust just as Buffy had the last time the Slayer had ever spoke to her.
The Slayer not seeing them stood at full stance looking at her home, obviously deep in thought, her hair flowed out behind her and they couldn’t all but help in admiring her. Buffy’s head drooped down looking at the ground in front of her, her body tight with anguish and suddenly it snapped up and her eyes locked on all of them.
Her body went even tighter if it was at all possible, but this time defensively. She regarded them as enemies with her eyes as she stared back at them, enemies on her territory. Far from someone that saw them as once friends.
“I thought I told you to stay away from me.” Her voice dripped with anger and disgust as it traveled across the distance between them. Her arms crossed over her chest. The group stepped forward closing the distance between them but not coming too close. Anya fell back behind the other three, she didn’t know Buffy and because of that she didn’t know what to expect.
Xander spoke up but he was cut off: “Buffy please- “
“Buffy please!” Buffy said with a mocking sneer. “Please save us, please forget everything that you’ve been through, please forget that we nearly got you killed!” She ignored that her former red headed best friend’s eyes welled with tears. “Please Xander tell me what I could do for you!”
“That’s not what we mean at all. Look we are sorry, if we could take it all back-“ This time Xander stopped himself, realizing his poor choice in words.
“Take it all back?!? I think you did enough of that don’t you guys?” She all but laughed crazily. “Now, get out of here. I was serious when I said I never wanted to see you ever again.” She walked up the path to the house with angry steps, up the porch and through into the house. The front door slammed so loud it echoed into the street leaving the four members of the Scooby gang to stand by themselves, three in guilty thoughts. All except Anya who of course with the tact that she had, had no problem speaking her tactful mind:
“Well she’s a ball of sunshine!”
The door hit with a bitter slam. Perfectly matching her mood, it echoed through the quiet house with a crisp whack before she dropped herself against it. Her body resounding out a hollow thud. She figured it fitting because all that was left of her these days was a shell. Her head hung low with her hands at her side, perfectly tight but shaking uncontrollably. Shaking with a lot of anger, but mostly heavy emotional heartbreak. Memories of a better time flashed like a strobe light in her mind and she closed her eyes trying to forget them. Her teeth dug into her lower lip all to silence her cry of anguish and pain.
Repeatedly her head slammed back into the wood of the door, as if she could knock the memories out. The shock and inability to over come her own death, heartache of her first ‘love’ leaving, the death of her mother, and the aching heartbreak in betrayal she had received from her friends.
Xander was right, and she knew it. What they had done to her wasn’t their intentions, at least the consequences weren’t. But the fact that they did and without even regarding the thought that they might talk to her first about it hurt most than what had happened. It was all for her well being… to make her stronger. But now it left her angry with them and alienated.
She choked back a sob, refusing to shed any more tears on it. When she would overcome this pain after every time she saw them she didn’t know. Maybe when they stopped trying. It had taken weeks after their massive fallout for them to stop calling or coming to her door everyday. She never answered either and finally they took the hint. Though she knew they searched for her every chance that she might be where they were. Whether it was the Bronze, the Espresso Pump, or a graveyard she patrolled. The slayer knew on pure instinct that Giles watched closely for any mention that might report her possible death since he would never know otherwise. The only connection she had with the watcher now was the bank account that he deposited the money into from the profits of her mother’s gallery. Though she had a feeling that mostly Miss Calendar was running it since Giles had taken over the Magic Box.
Buffy wished it could all go back to what it had been. She regretted not finishing high school and even going on to college if not for her than in the memory of her mother. Who before her death, Joyce only knew of Buffy the student constantly getting into trouble. She owed it to her mother, maybe it would lift some of the guilt she had about Joyce’s death. At that Buffy pushed away from the door choosing to not open that still aching wound. She trudged up the staircase and into her room, shedding her halter and grabbing a tank top off the desk chair. Kicking off her boots, Buffy stood before the punching bag she had set up in the corner of her room. Rolling any aches away she might have felt due to her lack of any real fight Buffy shot out a jab at the bag.
She had to give it to her former friends; they did take her mind off her most recent problem. A certain handsome – no not handsome (she tried to convince herself) –bleached blonde vampire. Here was a problem she didn’t know how to approach. She wished she had realized he was a vampire and she cursed those vampire senses for being on the fritz. Maybe then she wouldn’t have regarded him as drop dead gorgeous, charming, seductive…everything amazing. Buffy angrily punched multiple times at the punching bag barely giving it time to sway back and forth as she took out her frustration towards herself for not being strong enough to snap herself away from her hormones and attractions to simply stake him when she had the chance back at the alley.
Though did she really have cause to stake him now? He wasn’t a vampire plotting her death, instead trying to seduce her as his intentions made clear tonight. Spike was a master vampire though. She could feel his level of power and status. A part of Angel’s vampire family flowed through his blood and she was curious to know if she knew her almost boyfriend. The power of the Aurelius line was strong in him, descent from the Master, and that alone made Spike dangerous.
The Next Night
Buffy slowly glided through the cemetery, her body rigid and aware as she overlooked the expanse of the multiples rows of tombstones before her. To the side the large mausoleums stood, most of the locks probably broken from vamps constantly residing in them. This known fact that any vamp could easily hide in there, made her pay close attention to any heavy doors opening or closing.
She had just chased the last of a trio of vamps down into this cemetery. She had been walking through the park on her way straight into work when she came across three fledging vamps snacking over a single girl. She had quickly dispatched the first one allowing the other two to forget the girl and go up against her. Two on one wasn’t a fair fight but with a Slayer she might as well have been fighting with her arm behind her back. After staking the second and going in for the kill of the last, she would have been almost to work by now if the third had not taken off in a dead run across the park and over the large hedge wall into the cemetery. Normally Buffy would have just let him go but she had already caught him feeding. Why do they always have to run at the most inconvenient times! Buffy questioned in her mind. Her boots crunched against dry leaves on the grass, as a slow mist of fog began to roll in.
When she got her hands on this third vamp she was going to pummel it good before staking it, simply for the fact that this guy made her scale the concrete brick wall and take a detour on the way to her actual paying job. “Stupid blood sucker!” She cursed him, hoping he could hear how angry she was. “You better fear me…”
“Or what?”
Buffy whipped around, her hand instantly going for the stake tucked into her jacket, raised armed as she regarded whatever snuck up on her.
A good two rows back, leaning against a low looming oak tree was the very peroxide vamp that Buffy was trying to get out of her mind. A cocky smirk rested on his lips as he chuckled at her little annoyed mutterings, which of course he heard even with the distance between them. Vamp hearing and all.
Buffy stood there shocked as to how she didn’t sense him. Her vamp senses were like a stupid watch that you banged against the table to get it to start working it seemed. She didn’t want to know if this was happening with other vampires or if it was just this particular one. She shivered at the affects this man – no this vamp, was having on her.
Buffy tried to swallow the breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t make sense of the feelings racing through her. Fear? Excitement? Lust?
“Hmm Slayer?” He asked as he pushed off the tree and began to saunter over to her. She tried to ignore that his long black leather duster did that mysterious thing where it flowed behind him. Even under the long sleeves, she could make out the well defined muscles of his arms, his black tee which was tight against his chest, gave an insight into how chiseled his abdomen was. She refrained from licking her lips. “Well you’re better than other slayers I’ve come across and heard about. Smart girl, already got her weapon ready.” His head acknowledged the stake raised high in her hand, her other arm bent in front of her, full fighting stance.
“Did you follow me here?” Buffy asked.
Spike stopped a little before her, still keeping a good distance between them, and he looked at her through his lashes, piercing blue eyes shocking her core. He bit side of his lip as if to be coy and innocent. “Your scent was screaming to me. Walkin’ on by planning to go see a mate of mine down at a local demon bar when I caught whiff of your delicious scent.”
“I’m flattered, but honestly the whole smelling thing with vampires…kind of ooukie.” She scrunched up her nose, and Spike couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.
“Well Slayer you can tell a lot about a person from their scent. Which is why they make such great…tools for vampires. You can smell their power, the fear, the determination…the arousal.” He shot her a wink, an amused wink, and she wanted to simply turn around in an angry haste but that would leave her back to him.
“I stand by my last statement.” Buffy spat out through gritted teeth.
“Have you thought about my offer, pet?”
Buffy looked at him bewildered. “What offer?”
“Don’t skirt around it Slayer, you know exactly what I’m talking about?”
Feeling safe enough that he was wasn’t going to charge her, Buffy lowered her stake and put her hands on her hips. “If I did would I be standing here looking completely lost?”
Spike shrugged, but he continued on: “The one of you…and me?”
Buffy’s eyes widened, standing shocked before him. “You do know I am the slayer right? You said yourself, William the Bloody…slayer of slayers.”
The vampire before her shrugged and irritated her more. “Trust me Slayer, the idea of being this drawn to you abhorred me at first but I was never one to follow the rules, follow my gut and blood, which I’ll admit sure as bloody fucking hell isn’t just traveling in the right direction.” He leered at her form and she tried to stop the shiver that ran through her. She stood there mentally defeated. Okay, Spike was attractive, she was being a moron for denying that but that’s where her lack of denial ended. “’Cept I’m not what you call a conventional vamp, rebel by nature, get to know me a little more you could find out how good we could be.”
“I don’t date vampires anymore. Lived that route, not going through that again!”
His smirk deepened. “So you’re a rebel as well.” Spike ignored the fact that some other vamp had come close to her, had seen beyond her duty and the purity of her. Couldn’t blame whatever wanker had been in her heart once, she was divine, emanating power and not from the Slayer lineage, no it was seeded from beyond this. She herself was what would make her a great slayer, and from what he heard the greatest one the world had ever seen.
“You could say that.” Buffy crossed her arms. Spike looked at her expectantly waiting for her to further explain. “His name was Angel.”
A growl erupted deep from within his body and tore through the night, deafening the silence. Buffy couldn’t help but wince and step back, nothing stood against the animalistic stare and predatory hatred that came from Spike the second Buffy uttered that name. “You let that wanker touch you? Last I heard Angelus was rat eating and stuffed with a soul in the undergrounds of Los Angeles. That was well over ten years ago.” He paced in front of her, tension and even jealousy rolled from his figure in waves. “I still can’t believe you let that sadistic fuck touch you!”
“Knew you knew him,” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Look I don’t have to explain myself to you. The matter of whether Angel and I were involved has no bearings. He came in, swept me off my feet, and left in his cryptic fashion and all the while breaking my heart. All in the middle of the darkest time for me, so needless to say I’m not too keen on getting together with a vampire let alone anyone else any time soon!” She came to stand before him, her eyes cold and haunted. “I am the slayer. In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.” She tried not to choke on the words that Giles had spoken to her on her arrival to Sunnydale. The same words Merrick, another person who was ripped from her, had explained to her when her calling first became aware to her. “I fight alone, and I die. There is no future, not for me and not for us. I die and the world moves on with a new slayer. I don’t get love I get pain and war. Battling until my time is up. So Spike do me a favor…don’t.” She pushed him away from her. “Don’t chase me, don’t sweep me off my feet and promise of how good we can be, because it can never happen. I am to be alone, and I am to fight your kind.”
She stood before him, her speech ended on a heavy breath, she had nothing left to say, it was the first time Buffy had spoken of her thoughts on her calling in a long time. The Slayer turned around, she was done, tired of being tempted with something that she hated to admit sounded so good.
“Oh no, luv…we’re not done yet!” He grabbed at her wrist to pull him back to her.
On instinct her fist flew and hooked him square in the nose. She regarded him with fire, her green eyes set ablaze. His touch had ignited something in her, and she used the passion that he had made her feel to save herself and push him away from. Away from the heartbreak he would bring her. Best to save yourself before you got hurt. Spike leered at her with even more lust than she thought possible as he straightened up. Cracking his neck to the side he chuckled.
“Don’t call me that!” Buffy pleaded.
He bit his lip in a confident smirk, his shoulders now rolling. “You wanna dance pet? I wasn’t looking to perform with you this way but I never could pass up a good fight. Lets see what we got, eh?” His arm, like lighting shot out and cracked across her left cheek, his left arm ready to hit make the other side of her face even, but she expected that and blocked it. He chuckled clearing enjoying the tension between them. “Spitfire!” He ground out before she pushed her body up to kick him, sending him back a good few feet away. She wasted no time in sending back another right hook but this time he blocked it as he staggered up right. An amused expression marred his face.
Before they knew it, a full out fight broke out between them. Each blocked and shot their own hits, kicks, and jabs. Buffy turned a full 360 to avoid his roundhouse kick dropping down to her feet as she swung out her leg in an attempt to make him lose his balance. However Spike was no fledging, he knew the ways of the dance. He jumped high to avoid her maneuver. They fought as equals something both recognized as neither could get a good hit in.
Spike marveled in the sight of her, her hair flying about as she twirled to avoid his hits, and threw every part of her being, with grace to send out her own attacks. He grew hard in his jeans at the sight of her, even in fighting him. A beautiful finesse she had mastered and his need for her escalated higher.
“We dance perfectly luv, see it? Never met a woman, even a slayer that could match me so well.” Their punches were exchanged and blocked, exchanged and blocked. He could do this all night with her.
She swung her arm out again this time as a decoy before using her other arm to try and fit in another right hook, however both were blocked but he gained advantage by wrapping tight onto her wrists and pulling him right against her, her back pressed tight to his front. He grinned as the wiggling and squirming she did only fueled his erection.
Spike’s demon emerged then, the smell of her delightful blood just inches from him pumping through her veins.
Buffy knew it was then, his fangs grazed her neck and suddenly she went slack. She knew what to expect. She was fool to believe he was above killing her even for just a second. She closed her eyes and embraced the end that would greet her. She was tired of fighting and tired of being alone in this world, she wanted her heaven.
It didn’t hurt, when his fangs pierced her skin. It was gentle, and no way normal than what she witnessed of vamp feedings. Her insides went warm and she melted into him, her arousal surprisingly at its peak. God she must have a death wish if the bite that would bring her to her death was going to at the same time get her off. She waited a beat as Spike pulled her blood from her neck, it was slow and gentle and his hold on her was weak, his caress of her waist intoxicating.
“Spike…?” The Slayer gripped his hold on her waist, confused.
His fangs quickly retracted, his cold baritone voice piercing the quiet air. “Mine.”
A jolt ran through her, warmth coursed through her veins and his words, although unknown of it’s meaning, still shook her to the core. Fear ripped through her overriding any warmth she was filled with, at the idea of something that had just occurred beyond her control. She had spent over a year to keep control over her life. Her hand clamped on the bite he had instilled her with, her body tore away from his and she looked at him as if he had just murdered her puppy.
“I told you not to. Why? Why do this?” Tears came to her eyes but she refused to let them slip. “Spike, I die very prematurely. I don’t have the lifespan of a twinkie, I’m human and beyond that I’m a slayer. Premature lifespan comes with my duty. Why are you bringing this about?”
“Slayer, a word of advice, you should learn about what I’m offering, it might lend some insight into what you could be refusing.”
“Spike it doesn’t matter! God you’re so stubborn!” With arm she shoved at him again, her other still pressed tight to stop any bleeding. “I don’t want to be tied to anyone. I will not allow myself to be hurt again! So again, stay away from me!”
At that, she turned and ran. Ran again from the offering, the beautiful man – no vampire! She ran because what he offered was so tempting but she would not put herself in that position again. She would not risk her heart again.