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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: So, Spike and Buffy finally meet! Thanks to all who patiently have waited for this meeting, and thanks for all of the kind reviews! I'm introducing a new character in this chapter whose importance will become more apparent later. This chapter is slightly edited from the other website I posted it on originally.

The new character, C. G., is modelled after two actors who played the same vampire on TV prior to when "Buffy", or "Angel" aired. If you guess who he's modelled after, I'll give you a cookie!

Anyway, on with the story!

Previously: "Bloody hell!" he swore as he gingerly rubbed his throbbing nose.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Before the vampire could recover, Buffy landed another blow on his chest that sent him reeling across his living room. As Spike counted the stars he was seeing, Wesley and Anya ran down the stairs.

The young college student helped Spike up despite his protests. Anya looked at Buffy, whose fists were still clenched and whose long legs were spread in a combat stance. The former Vengeance Demon snickered.

"Did SHE do THAT to you?" she asked Spike as Wesley asked simultaneously, "Are you okay?"

Spike felt his nose healing rapidly as he regarded the fair haired, nineteen year old girl. "What are you on about, you daft bint?" The revenant asked Buffy.

She squared her shoulders and said in a voice laced with fury, "That's for my mother, you bastard!"

Wesley peered at the uninvited guest with interest. He brightened when he recognized her. "You're the girl in Spike's photo!" he said.

"You have a picture of me?" Buffy cried, getting madder by the minute. "You've been FOLLOWING me?"

"No, 's not like that," Spike defended, bracing himself for another attack. "Joyce, your mother, had a picture of you at the carnival, an'…".

The vampire stopped talking as he realized what he had just said. Buffy connected the dots rapidly. As she gave Spike a murderous look, Anya thought about the fact that if Spike were butter, he would have melted all over the floor from Buffy's expression just then. The former vengeance demon looked at the little scene playing between the two with interest.

Spike eyed her warily. Buffy didn't make any moves, but still stood with her hands clenched.

"You stole a picture from my mother?" she spat. "What else did you take from her?"

"Nothin'!" Spike said honestly.

"It should be interesting trying to see you prove that," Anya commented. Ever the diplomat, Wesley placed a hand on the brunette's back and started to steer her back toward the stairs.

"Come on, Anya," he said. "I need help with my history."

"But I wish to see them engage in all kinds of sweaty fighting and verbal diatribes!" Anya protested. "That really works up a sexual appetite!" To her left, Buffy could be heard saying "eww!"

Anya placed her hands on her hips and said, "Just because he has a face which could stop a basilisk in its tracks doesn't mean he might not be a good partner in bed!"

Wesley lifted his eyes upward, whispering, "Really, Anya!"

Spike totally disregarded the brown haired woman's and his honorary brother's remarks. He fixed his glowing eyes on Buffy and said, "I've had just about enough o' you, punching me in my bloody home, then insulting me! What'd you do: miss a whole soddin' year of Manners 101?"

"When people start capturing my mother and threatening her, I don't DO manners!" Buffy yelled back.

When Wesley spun Anya around and steered her toward the steps, the former demon frowned, saying, "I want to see her punch him again, this time maybe in the solar plexus, or better yet, the groin!"

Wesley groaned, telling the girl, "I'll take you to see that at a boxing or wrestling match! Let's go check out the library upstairs!"

The younger Brit successfully maneuvered Anya up the steps. When Spike and Buffy were alone, the vampire stared at the young woman. He had spent many a night dreaming about her, this golden beauty, the picture of stubborness and defiance. He, along with the demon inside, was extremely intrigued.

He'd hoped he would get to meet the beauty in his wildest fantasies, and now, even with her fists clenched, she was as exciting to him as she was making love to him in his imagination.

Of course, as he felt the imprint of where she'd kicked him in the torso, Spike had to admit, he was feeling conflicted.

The first instinct he had was to pummel her as successfully as she'd pounded him. The second mind, a distant voice which was growing stronger, was locking away the memory of her beautiful face, her muscular yet slightly curvy figure, and her rich green pools. Spike decided that he could drown in them forever.

As he kept staring, the once human side of him won out over the demon. Spike wondered how she'd feel if he wrote a poem to honor her, perhaps one about a Golden Goddess with eyes like the sea after a storm.

When he kept staring at her, the object of his scrutiny was shifting nervously as she became aware that the battleground had changed. Buffy regarded the sallow skinned, yellow eyed, beastly looking British vampire in front of her. She wasn't sure quite what to make of him.

One thing was certain: he wasn't going to attack any time soon, if the look in his eyes was any indication. Although she continued gripping her stake, Buffy's hold on it relaxed for the slightest of moments as she wondered which move to make. Despite herself, there WAS something about this vampire that seemed different somehow.

She wondered if another one could be responsible for the carnage that had been in the news these many weeks and months. Still, it paid not to be too careful. Buffy fixed her eyes on his to see what he'd do next, and if she could tell his true intentions.

"What are you looking at?" Buffy asked, sticking her chin out defiantly in an attempt to be more courageous. Spike chuckled softly.

"You," he purred. "You're a lioness, you are." Buffy then squared her shoulders, her chest thrusting out with pride just a little.

"I am?" she asked, starting to warm up to him.

"Oh, yeh, kitten," Spike told her. After a beat, the vampire said, "I almost forgot how you insulted me a li'l while ago. You're strong! You're the stronges' bird I've seen in many a day, an' I've fought some o' the best of them!" Buffy smiled a soppy grin.

"I've always been strong for as long as I could remember," she admitted. "Even my sparring partner, Bubba, said the same thing."

Spike commented, "Sounds like a jazz man." Buffy shook her head.

"Not even close," she responded. "He was a prize fighter in the neighborhood I grew up in. When I started hanging around the gym where he trained younger boxers for the fights, he started coaching me. Said I was a natural."

Spike could understand Joyce's obvious pride for her daughter just then. She was beautiful, she was built, and she associated with PRIZEFIGHTERS! A kernel of a plan took control of his mind just then. He hoped with all of his unbeating heart that Buffy would go for it.

"Your fightin' skills are top notch," Spike told her conversationally, "but your overall technique could use a li'l work."

Buffy regarded him for a moment, then said, "How would you know?"

"Jus' a feeling, pet," he said, circling her. "For instance, show me how you'd stake a vampire."

Buffy thought a moment, but came up blank. "How would I stake a vamp?" she repeated. The notion to take a stake to kill the vampire standing in front of her had seemed like a great idea back home, but now, she realized how inexperienced she really was.

Oh, Buffy had staked many of them...in her dreams. But in reality, she'd never gotten close to them. It had been only recently that she'd felt like she COULD kill a vampire, that she could overcome the odds by destroying one and being the only one remaining. But she didn't know where the dreams and visions came from. She'd just shaked them off as mere fantasies.

But now, having met Spike, she wasn't certain anymore.

"Yeh," Spike was saying to her question earlier. "For instance, where is your weapon? 'Cause I'm assuming you have one."

"Girls like me don't go around carrying weapons," Buffy tried to fib. Spike rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Yeh…pull the other one, lion cub," he said dryly. "I'll bet you were thinkin' you'd come here an' avenge your mum after the story she told you about me, right?"

Before Buffy could confirm or deny what he had guessed, the vampire continued. "She prob'ly couldn't wait to defend herself to you an' vilify me, right?"

His last statement was almost accusatory. "Said I was the Big Bad Vampire Beast, an' whatnot," Spike said.

"She didn't," Buffy said matter-of-factly. Spike did a double take.

"She din't?" he echoed, the surprise clearly on his face and in his voice.

"No, in fact, she suggested that there might be another Vampire Beast roaming around," Buffy replied.

Spike looked at her to see her reaction to her mother's insightful remark, but the girl's face was neutral. The revenant suddenly realized that what this young woman thought about him mattered to him more than anything. He would do whatever it took to gain even a tiny nugget of her approval. What disturbed him was why he felt he needed it.

Spike asked, "if there is another one, and if you could hone your skills an' save your mother and your kin in the bargain, well, that'd be worth its weight in gold, wouldn't it?"

Buffy thought about that. Ever since she'd felt, well, different as a little girl, she had wanted to put her strength to good use. Perhaps this was the opportunity she'd wanted.

"What's in it for you?" she wanted to know.

Spike shrugged. He did have a major reason for teaching her, but he wasn't quite ready to share until he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she trusted him. He could smell the doubt and beyond that, the fear in her; but equally, he could smell her arousal at being able to do battle. Spike just hoped he could survive the process.

"Jus' a chance to bone up on my vampire skills," he said. "S all about the hunt for us, but I never get to go into town much for fear of incitin' a mob, or something. If we could work on your fightin' skills, with weapons that won't stake me for real, of course, that would bring me up to snuff as a hunter."

Her instincts told her that Spike could be hiding something, but if she fought him, Buffy could learn the truth.

Her head jerked in the direction that Wesley and Anya had taken. "What about your friends?" she wondered.

"Ol' Wes doesn't have much of a stomach for fightin'," Spike responded. "He's more about research. I want someone who doesn't pull punches an' can get down and dirty, an' I don't trust the bird upstairs."

"So, I'm it, huh?" Buffy put in.

At Spike's nod, she smiled, salivating at the chance to do some serious damage. She had missed fighting with Bubba when she and her mother had moved out of San Francisco, and she wanted to be able to spar with a worthy opponent, one who could take her punches without getting seriously hurt.

Even Riley, with his army training, wasn't capable of withstanding one of her attacks. They'd found that out painfully when her fighting him resulted in his being sent to the hospital with cracked ribs. Though he got out within scant weeks after his arrival, it took months before Riley was up to his old, fighting self. After that, they didn't train with each other very often anymore.

The young woman realized that she hadn't even given Riley a second thought except to compare his fighting prowess with Spike's. While she was talking to Spike, she'd actually felt more comfortable, as though she'd known him for years. It seemed weird, but she was amazed to discover that she could talk to the vampire forever. Best not to let him know that, however.

Buffy put on her best no nonsense face and asked, "So, every day after I leave my first job?"

"Okay," Spike agreed. "I can even pay you to fight with me if you want."

"Okay," Buffy said, thinking, **this is great! Just how it should be.**

"We'll meet here at three," Buffy said. "That's normally when I start my second job, if three's not too early for you to be awake. I mean, you're all with the dead sleep and all, right?"

"I'll manage," Spike said, smiling a grin complete with fangs. He extended his hand. Not even giving his black fingernails a second glance, Buffy shook it eagerly.

"Sparring partners?" she asked. He nodded.

"Sparrin' partners," he responded. "Let me show you the house, an' where we can fight." The pair walked off to see the gym Spike had and the "weapons" Buffy would use.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In Sunnydale at the police station, Chief Maggie Walsh watched as Riley walked out, having given a cursory report as to what had been discovered about the Vampire Beast.

Behind her, Deputy Chief Cameron G. Springfield's dark brown eyes followed the Army man's every movement. At age 28, Cameron, "C. G." to his friends, was one of the youngest men ever to rise in the ranks at the police department in Sunnydale, partly out of necessity; mostly because the police force in the small town was always short staffed.

When the brownish blond haired, handsome Canadian man with the Welsh voice had started working there fresh out of the Academy, Maggie observed him with a critical eye. She admired the way he would analyze a case and use the best possible means to achieve results.

He was tough when it was warranted, tactful when he had to be, and respectful without being duplicitous. C. G. was also one smart cookie; although he was eager to help, he wasn't a doormat. He was capable of delegating work in his own fashion to his other coworkers without stepping on her authority. It was those qualities that made Maggie push very hard for his promotion. She also trusted his instincts, for the most part. Where Riley was concerned, though, C. G. saw a fire starting where there wasn't even a hint of smoke to her.

"Something?" Chief Walsh asked her Deputy as she viewed his expression.

"Off the record, ma'am…" C. G. began.

"It's off the record, Angler," the Chief said as she smiled. C. G. also smiled back at the nickname she used for him. He was known as "the Angler" to his workers because he always approached a case from every angle until he was satisfied that he had achieved the best results he could get.

"Are we certain we can trust Riley and his men?" C. G. said. "I mean, they may have hidden motives for helping us."

"Like what?" Maggie asked.

C. G. thought a moment, then said, "I don't know. Just call it my instinct. That's never failed you before."

"True," the Chief agreed. "However, instincts can only get you so far. Once they fail, if that's all you depend on, then you're dead." C. G. nodded.

"I know, Chief," he told her in all seriousness. "That's why I pursue each case from every angle." Chief Walsh put a motherly hand on his shoulder which, after a mere three seconds, was dropped. C. G. was used to her abrupt movements. The Chief was not given to public displays of affection, particularly if they could be misinterpreted as favoritism, or sexual attraction.

"I think you're way off base about Riley," she said. "However, if you get me iron clad proof of his dishonesty, I'll lock him up behind bars so fast his head will spin."

C. G. said, "I'll keep that in mind." The Chief turned to leave, her last words of the evening hanging on the wind as she left the station.

"But do it on your own time, eh, Angler?" she half requested, half commanded. "Good night."

"Yes, ma'am," C. G. promised. "Good night."

When Chief Walsh reached her car, a small, green Toyota Echo, she saw a young, handsome man, about six feet tall approaching.

"Are you a police officer?" he asked hesitantly. Chief Walsh sighed. Even after a long day, she wouldn't be granted the boon of being off duty.

She whipped out her badge and I. D., saying, "Yes. What's the trouble?"

The young man said, "I heard a girl screaming in the alley. I didn't want to go in there." He looked at her sheepishly, adding, "You know…the Vampire Beast they're talking about. Figured she needed a professional."

The Chief needed no further urging. She took out her gun, saying, "Show me." The young man told her to follow him. When she reached the alley, Chief Walsh was grabbed by two male vampires in game face.

"You said there was trouble," she argued. The man laughed.

"Well, actually, YOU said there was trouble," he clarified. "I just didn't disagree with you."

"We gonna kill her now?" one asked, his dark yellow eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Not yet," Angelus, their leader, responded. "Bring her."

Maggie struggled against the other vampires' vise like grips, glaring defiantly at the angelic looking revenant. His followers tightened their grip. They rendered her unconscious, then dragged her away into the night.





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