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Chapter 2

The disguise was relatively convincing. Perhaps the black hair might have been a mistake, since it was so last-season, but with the newly shorn style she almost looked like a member of the opposite sex - if she half closed her eyes and peered at herself sideways in the window glass. A rather feminine one, but there wasn’t much she could do about that short of having herself surgically altered, and even she wasn’t prepared to go that far.

There had to be males with soft, pouty bottom lips she reasoned, sticking out her chin in what she hoped was a manly fashion. And with all the life-forms she was likely to encounter in Sunnydale it wasn’t as if anyone was going to notice anyway.

The speeder bumped along with its driver whistling a jaunty tune in time to the song on the sound system and Buffonia felt free for the first time in her entire life. She started singing too, tapping her hand on the armrest in time to the song and the driver gave her an appreciative smile and joined in.

This was wonderful, she thought. Why on earth hadn’t she done this before instead of letting herself be controlled by her destiny as a royal Princess? And it had been so easy. No one had given a second glance to the kitchen lad who’d left with the rest of them at the end of the day’s shift. And now that she’d completed phase one of her plan, surely it could only get easier?

“Haven’t seen you around the palace before,” the man said conversationally.

Buffonia had to refrain from smiling too widely. “I’m new,” she said in as deep a voice as she could manage.

“And you’re going to Sunnydale?”

“Sure am.”

“You’ll do well there.”

“I will?” Buffonia frowned.

“Yeah, pretty lad like you.”

“Excuse me?” It came out as a rather high-pitched squeak, but the man didn’t seem to have noticed. His grin turned a little more leery as he leaned towards her and the speeder slowed down.

“Prettiest lad I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Buffonia clutched at her cloak and slid back in her seat. “Thanks,” she said. “I think…”

“Just going to park here for a while. That okay with you?” The speeder lurched to a halt before she could answer causing Buffonia to clutch at the armrest to stop herself pitching through the windshield. The man killed the motor and turned.

“Thought maybe we could, you know, fool around?” His hand slid across the seat. “Me and you, what do you say?” He chuckled to himself as he reached for the fastenings on his pants. “You just turn over and lie still, I’ll do all the work. Might just teach you a thing or two.”

“But I’m a boy.” Buffonia cowered even further back into her seat only now noticing the sickly smell of the man’s perfume. “You had noticed that, right?”

“Bonus,” he replied and Buffonia could only stare in disbelief as a grubby hand lunged towards her. Her spirits, which had only a moment ago, been soaring with the elation that freedom brings, now plummeted into her boots with the realisation that she was an innocent in a world that obviously wasn’t populated with ruggedly handsome and chivalrous young males with rock hard chests that she’d read about in her romantic novels. She’d had as many guilty fantasies about being carried off and ravaged as the next woman, but this was something else entirely.

The hand groped for the fastening on her cloak and a loud scream ripped the air.

It was entirely instinctive and Buffonia had no idea where the surge of power had come from. All she knew was that she had to fight, and strangely enough that this pitiful creature sitting beside her wouldn’t be much of a challenge either.

The man fell back holding his now very broken hand and it was his turn to stare in disbelief. He gathered his wits and threw himself forward with a string of curses, all pretence that all he’d wanted to do was offer her a lift to Sunnydale now gone.

“Going to kill you for that,” he just about managed before his face was jammed against the window and his arm twisted behind his back.

“You were saying?” Buffonia whispered close to his ear. Feeling most unlike herself as the strength coursed through her. She twisted the arm higher making him grunt with pain and leaned even closer. “Get out of the speeder,” she ordered calmly.

“You, you can’t do this,” the man stammered as she opened the door and pushed him out.

“Stop me,” she challenged, her eyes darting over the flashing lights and dials on the display in front of her. She’d never driven a speeder before, but how hard could it be?

The man roared and charged at the door. A surge of panic flashed through her at the sight of his murderous face and, for a moment, she was just a weak, helpless girl again. Don’t think, a voice said in her head. Just do. The force, it said. Use the force.

Buffonia looked around almost ready to swear that the voice had spoken out loud, but it was just her and the psycho who really did mean to kill her. He was struggling with the door as she strained to close it. “Okay, may the force be with me,” she muttered bringing back her leg and kicking him squarely in mid-chest. He went down and she managed to slam the door.

There was no time for a long introspective on where this sudden burst of power had come from. Her main objective was getting away as fast as possible, but that voice in her head had sounded awfully like Mr Creepy Stalker-Guy who’d been following her around lately and harping on about Slayers and Chosen Ones. Great, now he was invading her thoughts. That was another reason to get as far away from this planet as possible.

“Okay, power button. Which one was it?” She hit one and a few lights flashed. She tried another. The speeder jolted backwards and there was a strangled shriek from the man who she thought might have been on the roof, but was now picking himself up from the ground.

“Sorry,” she said pressing every button as fast as she could. The Speeder executed a three – sixty degree turn and the man went down again with a dull thud. Buffonia didn’t have time to see if he was okay. The vehicle jolted forward, the engine whining as it picked up speed and all she could do was hang on to the joystick and hope that controlling it wouldn’t be too different from the computer games she’d played back home.

Which she’d been notoriously bad at. The tree came towards her so fast it was just a blur. All she remembered thinking was tree, crash, ouch. And then there was darkness.

----------------------------------------

It wasn’t just the hellmouth that gave Sunnydale its reputation. A bigger collection of scum you’d be hard pressed to find anywhere in the galaxy. It was a place where you watched your back, kept your valuables close and minded your own business. A place where you were likely to be killed just because some being objected to your face.

O B downed his drink, pressed a credit into the waitress’s hand and stood up. Time to re-think his strategy towards the Chosen One, he thought lifting his hood and making his way across the crowded bar to the exit. She was getting stronger by the day and the power needed channelling in the proper fashion. She would need to be trained and the gods only knew what would happen if he couldn’t get her to understand that. He’d seen rogue slayers before. The elusive ones that wouldn’t, or couldn’t be tamed. Not a pretty sight and definitely not happening on his watch.

He let himself out into the balmy night and thought that he might try again in the morning. For now, he needed to sleep off the six green brandies he’d just drunk and gather his thoughts. Maybe a little meditation would clear his head and show him the way forward? He was, after all, a Jedi even if all the mystical stuff was a little passé these days. If this Slayer didn’t come willingly he was going to have to resort to force and the stronger she became, the harder that was going to be.

His mind was so occupied with the Slayer problem that he didn’t notice the gaudily-dressed young man coming towards him until he’d been pushed roughly against the wall. Instinctively his hand came up to protect his wallet as the man grappled with him. His assailant was running away before O B could gather his wits, but he realised with relief that he hadn’t been after his money.

O B dusted himself down and groped around for his eyeglasses, which he presumed must have fallen from his face during the scuffle. He moved carefully because without them the world was a largely unfocussed blur and he didn’t want to step on them and break them. They were no where to be found.

Damnation, he thought as he felt his way along the wall. Who in the blazes would want to steal a pair of eyeglasses?

---------------------------------------

The eyeglasses were the perfect finishing touch to his disguise. Never mind that he couldn’t see a damned thing in them. Better to be half blind than married to Jasmine and he’d already spotted two burly Hutt’s leaning on the bar in the Bronze. Spike slid the frames down his nose and peered over the top of them as he inspected the figure in the rest-room mirror. If he screwed up his eyes, he could just about make out his very faint reflection. Jasmine wasn’t one to give up her prize, or large amounts of money, without a fight. When she was owed, she always collected.

It would have to do. The hyperdrive parts were the first priority because without them they were going nowhere. Nowhere far enough to be out of Jasmine’s clutches anyway. He turned and made his way back to the noisy bar, looking around for a likely contact and spotting one sitting in a corner. There were always Traders in places like this. Beings who’d sell you their mothers if you paid them enough. Spike buzzed Chewie on the com-link.

“Okay, I’ve found one,” he said. “You stay put, I’ll check in later.”

Spike cut short the protesting growl. Chewie was long overdue for some R and R but he couldn’t risk them being seen together. They were a well-known pair in these parts and it was going to be hard enough getting away with this as it was since not all creatures operated on the visual and inside he was still essentially Spike, without being seen with his familiar side-kick.

Looking neither left, nor right, but keeping every sense on high alert, he made his way across the bar. The Trader looked only mildly surprised at his appearance and with a discrete nod, invited him to sit.

“Hyperdrive parts,” Spike said wasting no time on idle chit-chat. “Millennium Bug, De-Soto class, auxilliary circuit board.”

The Trader made a lengthy appraisal of his fingernails while Spike assumed as calm an exterior as he could manage. Look too desperate and the price was likely to triple.

“Auxilliary circuit board, eh?” The Trader shook his head. Haven’t had one of those through in a long while.”

Spike shrugged and half stood up. “No worries. Guess I’ll just have to go elsewhere.”

The Trader let him take a few steps before calling him back. “And where exactly do you think you’re going to go?”

“Oh, you know me,” Spike said giving him his patented smirk then hastily wiping it from his face when he remembered he was supposed to be nerdy William. “There are other Traders here tonight, right?”

“Yes, I thought I did know you,” the Trader observed, frowning as he tried to remember. “There’s something very familiar about your face. Can’t quite decide what. Come.” He motioned Spike back to the table. “Don’t be too hasty. Sit down again and we might have something to discuss. You can pay, right?”

“Dead right,” Spike said, his voice mildly indignant. He could already see the way the Trader was looking at him. Appraising him and pegging him as some clueless loser. This was going to be expensive.

“Those kind of parts don’t come cheap, you must understand that,” the Trader said leaning forward. “But I like your face. For you, I’ll make a special price. Two million credits.” He sat back and waited.

“Go to hell,” Spike said getting up again. “Half a million tops or we don’t have a deal.”

The Trader shrugged and fished in his pocket, causing Spike to tense all over and wish he’d been packing his blaster rather than the palm sized weapon that fitted the pocket of his shorts. Not that size was anything to go by, it worked just as well, but in places like these power came from being able to flaunt your strength and that was something he couldn’t risk at the moment. He relaxed as the Trader pulled out what looked like a large cigar and jammed it into his mouth.

“A million.”

“Seven-fifty.” Spike gripped the back of the chair and favoured him with a cold stare. A light of recognition flared in the Trader’s eyes, then died again.

“Are you sure I don’t know you?”

“Never seen you before.” Spike held his gaze. “How fast can you get it?”

“Tomorrow, first thing.”

“Tonight.”

The Trader thought about it for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “That’ll be extra.”

“Okay, a million then,” Spike said pushing the eyeglasses back down his nose. “But I get to test the parts first. I’m new here, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“Millennium Bug, De Soto class?” The Trader shook his head. “Unusual Ship. Not many of those still around. I should know you.”

“No you shouldn’t,” Spike assured him. “Look the ship’s in docking bay five hundred and six. Be there before sunrise.”

“And you’ll have the money?”

Spike watched him light the end of his cigar, take a long suck and blow out a cloud of pungent yellow smoke. “Yeah, I’ll have the money,” he said. “Just be there.”

---------------------------------------------


Buffonia grappled with the large air-bag that had undoubtedly saved her life and pushed at the door of the wrecked vehicle. It was jammed, but opened eventually, and to her immense relief. She looked around for the man, but he was nowhere to be seen and she was surprised at how much ground she'd covered in the time since she'd stolen the speeder. Staggering to her feet she looked over the ridge and saw the lights of Sunnydale spread out before her.

Okay, so this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d first thought, and she obviously had a lot to learn, but she wasn’t hurt and Sunnydale was within walking distance. Pulling her bag from the wreckage she steeled herself and took a deep breath.

The man had wanted to do something with her. Something she strongly suspected was the thing she’d read about in her romantic novels. But surely he’d heard her when she’d said she was a boy? Of the humanoid variety. So how had he ever imagined it would have been possible?

She certainly didn’t want to learn that the hard way. His weapon – a large metallic blaster - was still lodged between the seats and with a bit of heaving and pulling she managed to free it and note, with delight, that it didn’t look too damaged. It was heavy and felt unfamiliar in her hand. Another first, she thought as she slung it crosswise over her chest. The large weapon, more than anything, would give the clear message that she wasn’t to be messed with. At least she hoped it would. It had been a close call back there with Mr. Smelly, although the outcome had left her feeling stronger than she’d ever felt. But that was no good if it stayed on the inside. If she was to survive this then she was going to have to look tough on the outside too.

The compact came out from sheer force of habit, and she had to resist the urge to fix her hair and make-up. Perhaps the make-up had been a mistake, she thought squinting at her reflection and rubbing her lip-paint off with dirty fingers. Some of the males at the palace had worn make-up, but she was beginning to suspect that her mother’s hangers-on weren’t perhaps the best role-models for masculinity. Gods, there was so much she didn’t know.

Night was falling fast with all its strange shadows and noises so she wasted no more time. Hefting her bag onto one very sore shoulder, the blaster nestling reassuringly against her chest, she started walking towards the twinkling lights of Sunnydale.

---------------------------------------------------

O B made it back into the Bronze without mishap, using his Jedi reflexes to avoid bumping into any bad-tempered beings who might want to rip his head off just for accidentally touching them. There was a mild tingling at the base of his spine – his slayer sense he called it. Part of the Slayer - Watcher bond. But it shouldn’t be going off this far from the royal palace. He looked around, but all he could make out were shapes, some standing or sitting and some dancing to the pulsing beat in the middle of the bar.

Another drink would soothe his jangled nerves. Then maybe he’d check in with the Jedi High Council of Watchers. Yoga would know what to do, if he could catch him sober, which wasn’t something that happened very often these days. The wise and all-knowing Jedi master had certainly been a sad sight to behold the last time he’d seen him. He ordered another brandy, telling himself sternly it would be his last tonight and sipped at it slowly.

The Slayer wasn’t the only one trapped by her destiny, he thought as the fiery liquid went down. How did she think he felt when he’d been told he’d have to say goodbye to his dreams of opening a hardware store and made to go off and train as a Jedi instead? He drained his glass and called for another. They were all trapped by their destinies. Each and every one of them merely cogs in the great wheel of fate. There was no escape for those who were called to higher things, and the tingling in his spine was steadily increasing. Almost as if she was in the very room with him.

His Slayer, he already thought of her as that. Looking around at the fuzzy shapes he let go of his physical perceptions and concentrated all his Jedi mind-power into her image.

She was near. He could feel it.

---------------------------------------

Sunnydale was a strange mixture of affluent business, mainly trading in the precious minerals that the planet was famed for and which the Vampirians so desperately wanted to get their hands on, and seedy underbelly. Buffonia had heard that it attracted the best and the worst the galaxy had to offer, and it seemed that wasn’t far wrong. It wasn’t a large settlement, but it held her best chance of finding transport off the planet.

Her hand moved instinctively to the blaster, a finger poised over what she hoped was the firing trigger. So many life-forms, pushing past her, some staring blatantly, but most ignoring her. It was confusing and overwhelming. More people than she’d ever seen and the noisiest place she’d ever been to, but she could do this, she told herself sternly. She’d made one mistake and she vowed it would be her last. And there was the Bronze. The computer had told her that this was where she’d find cheap passage off the planet, but after her experience with the speeder driver she had to ask if she was doing the right thing even contemplating going in there.

A quick check of the cash situation told her that beggars couldn’t be choosers, so, pulling back her shoulders and keeping a tight hold of her bag and weapon, she made her way to the door. The burly looking bouncer nodded her through into the smoky and very noisy interior of the bar. The number of beings milling about, each seeming to know exactly where they were going and what they were doing, amazed her. For a moment all she could do was stand and take it all in as they swarmed around her. Music pulsed with a beat so heavy, the walls rattled and when someone stopped to speak to her she had no idea what the creature wanted, so she smiled and nodded and then put her hand back on the firing mechanism of the blaster for good measure. That did the trick and the creature backed away, shaking its head.

Buffonia pushed her way to the bar feeling very small around the crush of alien life-forms, some of which were easily twice her height and who could probably have picked her up with one digit if they had a mind to. If she was going to buy passage off the planet then it should at least be with someone of the humanoid variety, she thought looking around. Someone non-threatening looking who wasn’t going to demand her virtue as payment. And someone who wasn’t going to cheat her out of everything she had just because she looked like an innocent.

It seemed to take forever to catch the barman’s eye, but eventually she managed to order a drink by pointing at one of the bottles hung over the bar and, taking her cue from the rest of the clientele, she wriggled herself onto a stool and looked around.

She spotted him immediately sitting alone at a table on the far side of the room. His eyes were closed and his lips moving and, thankfully he didn’t seem to have seen her. Not that he’d recognize her, she thought turning around so that her back was facing him just in case. She didn’t look anything like the young girl he’d accosted only this morning. And what the hell was Crazy-Stalker-Guy doing in a place like this?

What the hell was she doing in a place like this? She had to have taken leave of what little sense she’d been born with to think she could trust anyone, or anything in this place. A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“How much do you charge?”

“I beg your pardon?” Buffonia looked up. A large, humanoid, but very scaly creature looked down at her.

“I said how much do you charge?”

“I don’t know what…” she began.

“This enough?” A scaly hand thrust a fistful of credits at her and she realized, with an inward groan just what he wanted. Gods, didn’t men have sex with women any more.?

“I’m not that kind of guy,” she said fingering her weapon. “Go away.”

“But you could be?” the creature persisted. “Look, I’ll double it if you’re good.”

“Go away.” She lifted the barrel of the weapon and pointed it, feeling a surge of power wash over her much as it had done in the speeder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man in the brown cloak open his eyes and raise his head. “Go,” she ordered in her best princess voice. The creature laughed and the man in the cloak rose from his chair.

Buffonia didn’t do panic very well. The creature had her arm now and no one seemed the slightest bit interested in coming to her aid. And the Watcher, as he’d called himself, was walking across the room, bumping into people as he went and he seemed to be coming straight for her.

Don’t panic, she thought as the creature twisted the blaster so that the barrel was pointing up into the air where it couldn’t do anyone any damage. Think.

“I’m with someone,” she said as she grappled for control of the weapon and hoped she wasn’t going to have to fight him for it, because she could already tell he was a lot stronger than the man in the speeder.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Him,” she said pointing to the only other all-human looking creature at the bar. No matter that the man in question had just about the worst dress sense she’d ever seen and didn’t look as if he could punch his way out of a paper-bag, let alone defend her honour. He looked like the type who’d go for the young boy she was trying to pass herself off as. “He’s my boyfriend, and he’s going to shred you into little pieces when he’s sees what you’re doing.”

--------------------------------------------

Spike turned around, his hand cupped over his face as he spotted the old man he’d stolen the eyeglasses from. He ought to leave, but he was hungry and they served a mean snyth- blood at the Bronze. Almost as good as the real thing, which was something he could only vaguely remember the taste of. When was the last time he’d been able to afford that? It was a rare luxury these days and was always invariably of the bottled variety, since the biting instinct had been largely bred out of modern day Vampirians.

They’d been a proud race once. Terrorised half the galaxy with their creature of the night routine. Drank their blood straight from the source. Had the ability to make others in their image if the fancy took them and were terrified of daylight, various symbols and smelly herbs. Spike remembered the thrill he’d got when he’d read the histories that told him what he would have been if he’d lived thousands of years ago. Things that were now merely genetic memories. Vampirians had come into the modern world like everyone else and with selective turning had produced a race who could tolerate mild doses of sun, lived on synthetic blood and who quite happily had their fangs extracted so that they could apply for the better jobs in the galaxy.

Spike still had his, although he rarely saw them. One or twice he’d vamped out, mainly when he was drunk, just to see what it was like, but it had been a rather pointless exercise since the last thing he’d felt inclined to do was bite some poor creature on the neck and suck their life force out of them. Live and let live, that was his motto. And the super-strength he felt when in full vampire mode had come in handy for fights, but he prided himself at not having to resort to that.

And of course, the biggest advantage of being a modern Vampirian had to be that if you were vain enough you could actually see your own reflection in a looking-glass. It hurt the eyes somewhat, but that was a price worth paying. How his ancestors had ever attempted to be half-way groomed without mirrors escaped him.

But never mind the history of Vampirian evolution, he thought downing the blood and wiping his mouth with his hand. There was the small matter of finding a million credits from somewhere because he didn’t think the Trader was going to be stupid enough to let him fit the parts to the Millennium Bug then allow himself to be hit on the head while Spike swanned off without paying. That was plan B, but it was risky, and low-key was the order of the night. Much easier if he could just pay for the parts and have done with it.

His eyes swept over the room as he picked out a victim who looked as if he might be carrying a million credits on him. It was hard to tell, but he’d already spotted a few shady transactions going on in quiet corners with money changing hands. But a million credits? He sighed and reached for his whiskey chaser. Might have to be that bank vault after all.

The small, warm body that flung itself against him took him completely by surprise. So much so that he knocked his whiskey clean over.

“Soddit,” he cried as it splashed onto his shirt. “Can’t you…”

The prettiest creature he’d ever seen looked up at him. A pair of wide green eyes, a pert little nose and the most kissable lips all framed in a perfectly oval, but very grubby face, and topped with short, spiky black hair. He blinked, the eyeglasses slid further down his nose and he was completely rooted to the spot by the mesmerising vision before him.

“This boy says he’s with you,” a gruff voice said and Spike’s head whipped up as he heard the challenge. And the word boy.

His first reaction was to run for the hills. He looked down again, still perched on his bar-stool, at the boy who was holding on to him surprisingly strongly for one so small. Spike slid backwards, nearly falling off his seat in his haste to put distance between them, but the boy wasn’t having it.

“Tell him,” the boy urged. “Tell him I’m your boyfriend. Please?”

The last word the boy mouthed silently at him, his eyes imploring him to go along with whatever game he was playing. Only by the sound of panic in the boy’s voice, this was no game.

“Boyfriend?” Spike did fall off his stool at that one, mainly because the boy had dragged him off his perch and was now trying to wrap himself around him. And he felt like anything but a boy.

“Look, is he with you, or what?” the scaly creature demanded.

“What?” Spike looked up again, pushing the boy off and trying unsuccessfully to untangle his arms from around his neck. “No,” he managed. “Look, will you stop that,” he hissed to the boy, who only hung on even tighter. “Not gay,” he said to the scaly creature, with a forced laugh. “Me, a boyfriend?” He laughed again, a little too high pitched for his last statement to be convincing and the scaly man raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t be silly,” the boy said hooking his arm around Spike’s neck and plucking the eyeglasses off his nose. “Sure you are, remember?”

Remember? Spike couldn’t even think straight as the boy’s mouth plastered it self against his and he found himself in the strange situation of both trying to push him off and hang on to him at the same time. The part of him that definitely wasn’t gay and had in no way started fancying young boys pulled back in horror at what was happening. Unfortunately, it seemed there was a part of him that was quite happy to be gay when it felt like this.

Warm, wet lips sliding over his, inexperienced, he could tell that, but with so much promise. Sweet breath and a mouth that tasted of sugared almond flowers. And that damned sexy, and very hard blaster nestling between. Spike fought a battle he was rapidly losing as the boy’s other hand crept around his neck and small fingers threaded themselves into the sensitive hairs there. He couldn’t help shivering as they stroked him with a feather-light touch. And the deep sigh of satisfaction must have come from his mouth since no one else here was being kissed to within an inch of their lives by completely the wrong sex, and loving every moment of it.

Unless it was the young boy who’d groaned with such erotic abandon, when, for a moment, everyone and everything in the room faded away and it was just the two of them acting out the clinch of the century. Only neither of them was acting, that much was clear. The boy pulled back with a gasp and Spike saw the same shock in those green eyes that must have been reflected in his.

They stared at each other for a long moment, chests heaving, the boy panting, and Spike’s Vampirian senses were all over the place. The slightly dazed youth standing in front of him might look like a boy, and call himself one, but he sure as hell didn’t feel like one, or taste like one. The lad gently replaced the eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose for him and Spike shifted uncomfortably as his pants tightened even more. He was reaching for the lad again when the rational part of his brain finally kicked in.

“I’ll give you five thousand credits for him.” The scaly man, unimpressed by their display, brought out another fistful of notes.

Five thousand credits? It wasn’t enough, but heck, money was money and it was a start. Spike’s hand was reaching for it of its own accord when he caught the young lad’s eye.

Hell, he was a Vampirian. A rogue Vampirian even. A smuggler who didn’t care about anything now that Dru had left him. He didn’t do noble, or knight in shining armour. He did what was most profitable for Spike. The lad caught his jacket, forcing him to look down, his stunning eyes so wide now that they reminded him of an old earth film where a cat had pulled that stunt every time he’d wanted someone to feel sorry for him. And bugger, if it didn’t get to him every time.

“No deal, mate. Lad’s with me, as you can see,” he said pulling the boy in with an arm around his waist. The boy sank against him and he heard a murmured thank you.

Mr scaly doubled his offer and again Spike found his hand twitching. But he couldn’t do it. For whatever reason, this boy needed his help and there was a small part of Spike, though deny it he might, that was hero through and through.

“Bugger off,” he said staring up at the huge creature who seemed so intent on having this boy. “You’re starting to piss me off.”

“Yes, bugger off,” a deep, cultured voice cut in from behind him. “You don’t want that lad. He’s not for you.”

“I don’t want that lad,” the scaly creature said, a confused look in his eyes. “He’s not for me.”

“You run along now,” the old man in the brown cloak urged, and Spike watched, open-mouthed as Mr scaly gave up and walked calmly away.

The lad however, dropped him like a hot brick and sprang back, his finger on the firing mechanism of the blaster.

“You stay away from me, he shouted. “I know how to use this thing.”

For a moment Spike thought the boy was talking to him and he mentally berated himself for having got so carried away when it was obviously that the lad had just been using him. Then he realised the boy was talking to the old man. Who was, in turn, staring intently at Spike.

“Do I know you?” the old man said screwing up his eyes and reaching out a hand.

Spike ducked away, hastily removing the eyeglasses and shoving them in his pocket, his fingers curling around his weapon.

“No, you don’t, Spike assured him. “You too know each other though? He said deftly changing the subject.”

He heard the words yes and no, both spoken at the same time. The lad tugged on his sleeve.

“Don’t leave me with him.”

“I mean you no harm,” the old man said. “You must understand that.” He stepped forward, feeling his way, arms extended, and planted both palms onto the boy’s chest.

The boy gave an indignant yelp and swung back his fist. “I knew it,” he said. “Pervert much?”

The old man went down with a grunt, which surprised Spike because the lad was so slight he looked as if he could be picked up with one hand, yet he obviously packed a mighty wallop.

“I need passage off the planet,” the boy said, the words tumbling over themselves as he watched the old man struggle to his feet. “Where can I find a ship leaving tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Spike said eyeing the blaster.

“You must,” the boy said a little desperate now. He felt around for his bag, picked it up and took a step back. “Do you have a ship?”

“Yes, but…”

“I’ll pay.”

“No,” Spike answered hastily, remembering the kiss. “I don’t do passengers.”

The old man sat up, groaning and rubbing his head. “Buffonia?” he said weakly, his eyes full of confusion.

“I’m rich.”

That got Spike’s attention.

“Very rich.”

Spike swallowed as the lad did that thing with his eyes again.

“If you help me the rewards will be more than you could ever imagine.”

“I don’t know, I can imagine quite a bit,” Spike said trying not to stare too much at the lad’s kiss-swollen lips.

“Then you’ll help me?”

“Yes.” Spike nodded then shook his head. “I mean no. No way. How rich are you?”

“Trust me. The cash is in the bag.”

Spike never actually knew if it was the money or the eyes that did it in the end. Or the thought that somewhere deep inside he might want to repeat that kiss, no matter what that would make him. All he knew was that he was running for the exit with the boy beside him, the old man shouting them to stop and that, hopefully, his money problems were over. If the lad was as rich as he claimed then the hyperdrive was as good as paid for and Spike was out of there permanently. But before he got too carried away with things there were questions that needed answers.

They ran out into the night ducking into a side alley where Spike stopped, grabbed the lad by the arm and swung him against the wall.

“Okay,” he said, pinning him in place. “Just who are you, and what’s your game?”

“I’m just someone who needs to get away.”

“Worked that one out,” Spike said. “If you’re wanted for something I’ve got enough trouble of my own. Not inclined to take on any more right now.”

The boy shook him off, smoothing down his rumpled cloak. “You won’t get any trouble from me,” he said lifting his chin. “Look, I really need to get off the planet.”

The lad’s eyes were glazing over suspiciously and Spike closed his own because he’d always been a sucker for tears. “Show me the money,” he said hardening his voice and motioning to the boy’s bag.

The boy pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “I’ll get it for you,” he said pointing to where it had fallen.

Spike pushed it across with his foot. “No funny business,” he said. “I’m not as stupid as I look.”

The lad gave him a quick glance and bent towards the bag. The next moment the blaster was jammed against Spike’s chest.

Spike froze and raised his hands.

“Take me to your ship now,” the boy demanded. “Or, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

“So you haven’t got any money?” Spike couldn’t help the note of disappointment, or desperation in his voice.

“Didn’t you hear me? I will shoot.”

Spike motioned towards the blaster with his head. “Energy cell’s damaged,” he said. “Fire that thing and you’ll kill the both of us, and take out half the block.”

“What?” The boy’s eyes dropped momentarily to the weapon and Spike struck, twisting it out of his hand and disabling it in one smooth stroke.

“Don’t ever point a weapon at me again,” he said in a low voice. “And don’t trust everything you hear, either. People are going to lie to you to get what they want, but you already know that, don’t you?”

The boy slumped against the wall, raising his stricken eyes and that was the moment Spike learned that weapons weren’t always made of cold, hard metal. And a blow to the heart could be made just as effectively with a look as the sharpest of stakes.

“Bloody hell,” he said kicking the bag gratuitously. “Look, Just go back where you came from. I got stuff to do that doesn’t include saving your ass.”

“Th...that man in there,” the boy began, swallowing hard, his voice breaking. “He’s going to sell me into slavery. You wouldn’t want that for me, would you?”

Spike jammed a hand in his hair. “Not my problem. Told you, already got enough of those.”

“What’s your name?” the lad said placing a soft hand on his arm.

Spike eyed it suspiciously. “William,” he said remembering he was in his new persona. “What made you think I’d want to kiss a boy back there?”

“You looked like…” the boy’s voice trailed away, then he brightened. “I could work my passage. You must have some use you could make of me. I’ll be very good.”

The visuals were cycling through Spike’s mind faster than he could process them. And all the innuendos implicit in what the boy was saying.

“No,” he said determinedly pushing them away. “You’re trouble with a capital T. Do you have any money at all?”

“Two hundred credits.”

“Not even worth mugging you for that,” Spike murmured. “Although someone will. Do you know how dangerous this galaxy is?”

The boy sighed. “Okay, not going to help me. Kind of got that picture now.”

Spike watched him wearily reach for the bag then extend his hand.

“Could I have my blaster back?”

“Do I look that stupid?”

“Umm, you do actually. But you’re not, are you?”

“Look, do what you want, it’s not my problem. But this,” Spike raised the weapon. “I think I’ll keep.”

“I won’t survive without that and you know it.”

“And if I return it to you, we’ll be back to square one.”

The blush on the lad’s face told him he wasn’t far wrong on that one.

“Look, who are you, really? Or rather, what are you?” Spike sniffed trying to lock down the confusing scent the boy was giving off. “Shape shifter? Wraith demon? What? And no more crap about slavers and stuff. Like you said, I might look stupid, but I’m not.”

The lad turned his head as a rowdy crowd crossed the end of the alleyway. “Okay, I’ll be straight with you he said lifting an elegant hand. “I’m in trouble and I need to get away fast. And I wasn’t lying about being rich. I just don’t have the money on me now.”

“And that old man,” Spike said. “Where does he fit in?”

“I think he’s trying to tell me something.”

“Something you don’t want to hear?”

“You guessed that much?”

“Was pretty obvious.”

“So, you’re going to help me?”

“Nope,” Spike said stepping away shaking his head. “You know that old man in there is a Jedi, right?”

The lad’s eyes widened.

“Bunch of nutters, the lot of them. And powerful as hell. I am definitely not getting involved.”

“Then you might as well kill me now,” the lad said quietly.

“What kind of talk is that? Can’t you just go home?”

The lad shook his head, misery etched into every feature. Every beautiful, feature.

Spike knew that he was probably going to regret this more than he’d ever regretted anything in his life. And he’d done some stuff. A slight flick of his head was all it took for the lad to grace him with the most engaging smile Spike had ever been subjected to. A smile that made his heart feel as if it had grown a large bulge in it and expanded to fill his whole chest.

“There’ll be no repeat of the, you know, what happened in there.”

The lad skipped beside him his mood having gone from despair to elation in a suspiciously short space of time.

“Absolutely not,” he assured Spike.

“Dead right,” Spike replied, just as emphatically.

“Never going to happen again.”

“Not in a million years.”

“Ten million years.”

Spike slung the blaster over his shoulder. “So, you don’t fancy me then?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“That’s good.” Spike said feeling slightly disappointed. But that was what he wanted, right? Why he’d turned himself into nerdy William? He deliberately set a brisk pace so that the lad had to trot to keep up with him. At least they had that sorted. There’d be no more thoughts of kissing young boys, no matter how delectable they looked, or how delicious they smelled or how small and helpless they appeared. Concentrate on Jasmine, he told himself sternly. And what was increasingly looking like it was going to have to be plan B, since there was no way he was going to be able to rob a bank vault with young pouty-lips in tow.

They stopped to cross the highway and he caught the lad gazing at him from under his considerable lashes.

“What?” he snapped irritably.

“Your hair,” the lad said tipping his head as he looked up at him. “I could swear it’s grown.”

Spike patted his head, remembering the hair growth he’d used. It definitely felt longer, and curlier.

“It’s kind of cute,” the lad observed with a smile.

“Really?” Spike said, before he could stop himself. “Bugger, but it’s not meant to be. Quit looking at me like that, will you?”

The lad recoiled a little, the hurt look creeping back into his eyes, but Spike resolutely ignored it. He had to be ten kinds of crazy to take on a passenger when his ass was so much on the line. And Chewie wasn’t going to like it one bit.

“Did you say you had two hundred credits?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, hand it over.” Spike stopped and stuck out his hand.

“You want it now?”

“You didn’t think I was taking you for free, did you? Passage off the planet will cost you two hundred credits.”

“You’ll get your money.” the lad said fumbling in his pocket, his voice brittle and tight.

Spike looked away. He didn’t do guilty either, but this lad was almost making him feel that. And damned if the boy didn’t go the most enchanting shade of pink when he was angry. He slapped the money into Spike’s outstretched hand.

“There,” the boy said favouring him with a glare. “It’s all I’ve got. Do you feel better now?”

It was a strangely perceptive thing to ask. Spike’s answering yes was automatic and he should have felt better that he was putting this whole transaction on a business footing, but he didn’t. Instead he felt like the biggest shit in the galaxy. And he’d inadvertently made the lad even more dependant on him than he was before, because now he had penniless to add to his list of woes.

“I know that’s not enough,” the lad continued. “I’m still willing to work for my passage. I’ll do anything you want me to. And I’m not afraid of you,” he said in a determined voice.

Spike gazed down at him. Wish I could say the same, he thought. Wish I could say the same.

Tbc…





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