Prologue

Translated from Pawnee
"...Bind the beast to the ghost of Nia Mirobi, if she wishes it, and grant her spirit the powers to make his suffering complete. We ask that the penalty for his murderous ways not go unpunished and place upon him this curse to follow her dictates until she believes justice has been served. Then and only then shall the beast be released from the ghost by death of her choosing..."

Part One

"Be glad this placed is closed on Tuesdays," Spike said, working on his laces. "Or in no way would I be allowing this."

"Oh come on, Billy, I just want to have some fun before we reach Sunnydale."

"Fun?" Spike said, turning to glare at the young woman next to him on the bench. "I listened to that crap you call music for over a thousand bleedin' miles, Nia, all to entertain you. If I heard that Loco song one more time, you'd have no one to annoy, because I'd stake myself." He looked down at his foot, then back at her. "And stop calling me Billy."

Nia's dark eyes twinkled with laughter. She pulled her single, black braid over her shoulder, lifted her head slightly and looked down her aquiline, Native American nose. "Stodgy old man."

"Who's putting these things on his feet for you?" Spike scowled.

"Thank you, Billy," Nia sang.

Spike sighed and stood. His ankles turned out immediately and he ended up standing on the sides of his feet. Nia laughed. "Sod off," he growled, removing his duster. He put it on the bench, then walked shakily to the divide in the wall. Once there, he turned and looked at the mid-twenty year old beside him. "Try not to hurt me."

"I know how to ice skate," Nia told him.

"Yeah, but I don't," he replied. When she smiled at him, he groaned. "Why me?"

"Next time, do your homework before you kill someone," she said, then stepped inside his body.

Spike hated when his ghostly companion used his body. It felt as though he walked through thick mud as she entered, then he was sitting on a couch in his mind, watching the world through his own eyes, but unable to do a single thing. Nia stepped onto the ice and began to skate and he tried not to consciously watch how fast she was going.

Invisible to everyone but him, Nia was a ghost of a young woman he'd had for dinner one night. Like Angelus a century before, the Native American's tribe took offense at what he had done and cursed him, not with a soul, but with a ghost who had the power to keep him on the straight and narrow. He'd felt first hand her powers and still had a burn mark on his side that hadn't fully healed.

Spike had spent the first week of their being together in a motel room, ignoring her. By the end of the week of her constant chatter and testing out her powers, including moving in and out of his body, he decided it was better for him if he treated her like an annoying companion. After many months of his testing the limits -- and many painful recoveries because of it - Nia had suggested that since he had to be good, he should be helpful.

They had argued for several hours over that until he had finally given in, more to get her to shut up than because he agreed with her. Then she had asked him who he wanted to help and the first person that came to mind was the Slayer. Nia had plucked the image out of his head, much to his annoyance, and they were now in an ice skating rink outside of Sunnydale.

He didn't even know if Buffy was still alive or not -- it had been over a year since he'd last been to the Hellmouth. The possibility that she wasn't always brought a strange pain to his stomach, as if he had drank old blood. He knew that he'd miss her if she was gone, like one worthy adversary to another, but that didn't explain the sadness that came over him when he thought of a world without the petite, blond Slayer.

However, he'd know soon enough if she was still kicking vampire and demon butt. If Nia didn't kill him first by going at ridiculous speeds around the skating rink in his body.

"Oh crap," Nia said in the deep timber of Spike's voice.

Spike felt the pull of the ghost leaving him and his eyes widened under his own power. She had left him in the middle of the rink, heading full-speed towards the wall. His arms flailed out as he tried to stop, causing him to lose what little balance he'd retained from Nia. He fell backwards onto the ice, cracking his head on the cold surface. He slid close to ten feet before he stopped and found Nia looking down at him.

"Oops, sorry," she said.

"Right," Spike muttered, glaring at her, his head pounding. "You could have put me on solid ground first."

"Shh," Nia said. "We have company."

"That's just bloody great," he grumbled, sitting up and putting a hand on the back of his head. It came away red. "Nia, you split my friggin' skull open."

"I said I was sorry," she replied.

He went to glare at her again when he saw the woman skating across the ice towards him. With a groan, he laid back down on the cold ice and spread his arms out to the sides. "Somebody stake me, please," he whimpered. The loud scrap of blades against the ice heralded the arrival of the person he'd come to Sunnydale to find. On one hand, he was ridiculously happy she wasn't dead, on the other, she was witness to his graceful flop on the ice.

"Why is it bad guys insist on bleeding on my ice?" Buffy asked, coming to a stop beside the prone vampire. "And why is it you can't leave and stay gone?"

"I can't seem to stay away from your sparkling wit and personality, luv," Spike replied sarcastically. "It draws me like a spider does a fly."

"So you're metaphor man now," Buffy said. "Wonderful. Now stop bleeding and go away. I don't want dust all over the ice, too."

"She's cute," Nia commented from the other side of him. "In a wholesome, white-bread kinda way. Are you sure she's the Slayer? She doesn't look strong enough to paint her own nails."

Spike turned his eyes to the ghost and glared, then sat up again. He looked at the distance between himself and the exit to the rink. "Bloody hell," he muttered, crawling up onto his knees. He put one unsteady foot on the ice and pushed upwards. That foot shot forward on the blade, sending him into an impromptu split and he hissed when certain muscles were pulled in ways they weren't meant to be pulled.

Nia burst out laughing as he fell onto his hip, then sat down. He heard Buffy chuckle, too, and he knew he should have walked out into the sunlight when he'd had the chance. "You could help me," he growled.

"This is too much fun," Nia replied.

"But you were skating just fine a few minutes ago," Buffy pointed out.

"Oh, bugger off," Spike said, speaking to both of them, even though the Slayer only thought he was talking to her. He slowly and unsteadily climbed to his feet, then stood leaning forward, his arms splayed to the sides for balance. When he didn't immediately fall he was relieved, but that relief was short lived when he realized he didn't know how to move. "Er, can I get a push in the right direction?"

"Is this just a ploy to get me close enough so you can kill me?" Buffy asked. "If so, it's pretty lame."

"I'm not going to bloody kill you," Spike growled. "I just want to get off this friggin' ice."

Buffy skated behind him and put her hands on his waist. She lightly pushed him towards the side. They arrived at the divide and Spike grasped the walls and stepped onto solid ground. He let out a sigh of relief and made his way to the nearby bench to take the skates off his feet. He shot a hateful glare to the ghost, who sat down next to him, and she smiled in return.

"So, Spike, what brings you back to Sunnydale?" Buffy asked, standing across from him with her arms crossed over her chest. "A death wish?"

"If it were that simple," Spike mumbled, unlacing the skates.

"What?" Buffy said.

"I came to offer you my services, pet," he said.

"As what, a Vampires On Ice skater?"

"Oh, that's a good one!" Nia laughed.

"I thought perhaps as your lover," Spike said, ignoring Nia. "But that would be sacrificing too much for the cause."

"Thanks so much," Buffy said sarcastically. "Like I would really want you anyway. You're dead and you have lousy taste in clothes."

"I'll say," Nia agreed.

"Didn't stop you from letting Angel give you the old leg up," he said, turning his head to shoot Nia a glare.

Her eyes narrowed. "Leave Angel out of this."

"Why? I'm not afraid of the old ponce," he told her. "Where is the soulful wuss anyway? I thought you dragged him around by his cock-"

The punch sent him tumbling off the back of the bench and onto the padded floor. He heard Nia laughing at him as he gave the Slayer a thoughtful look. "Problems in sappyville, ducks?"

"That's none of your business," Buffy ground out.

"Someone's a bit testy," Spike commented as he righted himself.

"Spike, what do you want?" she sighed.

"Billy-boy, trouble," Nia said, pointing.

Spike looked past Buffy and saw some sort of white creature had almost crept up behind her while he was on the floor. He grabbed one of his discarded skates and stood. "Slayer, duck."

Buffy's eyes widened, but she dropped into a crouch as Spike brought his arm back and let loose with the skate. It flew end over end before embedding itself in the creature's chest. It let out a high-pitched scream, then fell to the ice behind the wall. The vampire walked forward and looked over the divide. "'He's dead, Jim.'"

"'Good shot, Jensen,'" Nia said, playing the quote game with him. She leaned over the wall beside him. "Your first official good deed for the Slayer."

"Second," Spike said absently, watching the blue blood spread from the wound down to the ice.

Buffy stood and looked over the wall. "Oh wow," she said.

"He's bleeding on your ice," Spike joked, his lips turning up in a wry smile.

"Did you...you just..."

"Helped you?" he finished. "Guess I did."

"But why?" Buffy asked.

"I don't even get a 'thank you'?"

"Thank you, now why?" she repeated.

"I told you I was here to offer my services," Spike replied. He sat back down and began to put his shoes back on.

Buffy suddenly put her hand on his forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"I'm a bit too dead to have one of those, pet," he said.

"Your humor is a bit dead, too," Nia told him. Spike gave her the old 'scratch the side of the head while flicking someone off' gesture. "Childish enough?"

"Who are you and what have you done with my Spike?" Buffy asked, a frown on her face.

"My Spike?" he drawled.

"Oh, shut up," she growled. "The Spike I know wouldn't help me."

"I beg to differ, Slayer," Spike said. "I seem to recall a little incident where I helped you save the world."

"You helped her save the world?" Nia asked. "That's what you meant by second?" Spike glanced over at the ghost and nodded. "Wowsers. And here I thought you were just a despicable vampire who enjoyed killing innocent, young women by luring them to your bed and draining them while in the throes of passion." She paused and cocked her head. "Oh wait, that was just me."

"That's not what happened and you know it," Spike said under his non-existent breath.

"Ok, skip the innocent part," Nia said. Spike glared at her again.

"Um, Spike?" Buffy said. He turned his attention back to the blond. "Are you for real?"

"I'm not Memorex," he teased. "Why don't you go call your Watcher about this..." He gestured to the creature. "Thing. There may be more and I'd like to be prepared."

"Ok," she replied, walking away. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him, then shook her head and continued out of the rink.

"Bugger," Spike sighed. "I'm going to be another Angel. This bloody bites."

"It's your teeth that got you into this to begin with," Nia pointed out.

"Nia, shut your yap for awhile, will you?" he said.

"Boy, someone's testy,"she said. "You'd think that you were a evil vampire forced to do good deeds or something."

Spike didn't dignify that with a comeback.

*****

"Giles, it is so wiggy," Buffy said into the phone. "He helped me. Ok, granted, it's not the first time he's done it, but still..."

"And you are certain this is Spike?" Giles asked over the line.

"I thought Invasion of the Body Snatchers right away, too," she replied. "But he doesn't look like Donald Sutherland."

"Do you think his offer of assistance is sincere?"

"Don't know," she said. "He could just be setting up some big, hokey trap."

"Well, until we, er, ascertain his intentions, we shall need to keep an eye on him," Giles said.

"Do that friends close, enemies closer thing," Buffy agreed. "Got it."

"In the meantime, dispose of the body and then meet me back here," he instructed. "I shall research on what type of-of creature you have described."

"Will do, Giles," Buffy said. "See you soonly."

She hung up the phone and headed back for the rink, curious as to if Spike would still be there or not. When she had arrived at the rink earlier, an activity she normally did on Tuesdays, courtesy of prompting from Angel not to stop, she had been surprised to find someone else at the closed establishment. Her surprise had grown tenfold when she had recognized Spike skating in circles around the rink, sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards.

Then he had fallen suddenly and smacked his head on the ice hard enough that it echoed in the rink. She had winced and skated over to him to see if he was alright, then mentally hit herself for being worried about Spike of all people. When her hands were around his waist as she guided him back to the edge of the rink, she had tried not to ogle his butt. It hadn't helped that his black jeans fit snugly to his body, or that they were slightly wet from landing on the ice. At the turn of her thoughts to Spike's rear, she decided she really needed to date more.

Walking back to the rink, she paused in the entryway and frowned. Spike looked like he was talking to himself. Then she amended her assessment -- he looked like he was talking to someone, but no one was there. Wondering if Drusilla had rubbed off on him, she continued into the rink and picked up a snippet of one-sided conversation.

"...I guess we could bother the tosser at the mansion. There's enough rooms in that bloody place to house the Vienna Boys Choir."

Buffy watched as he stopped speaking, as if he were listening to a reply, then he continued.

"I did too see them. Dru wanted to keep one as a pet to sing for her."

Buffy thought perhaps his head connecting with the ice had jarred something loose. "So, Spike, who're you talking to?" she asked, calling attention to her presence.

Spike turned quickly, a surprised look on his face which quickly melted into aloofness. "What did your Watcher say?" he asked instead of replying.

She arched her brow, but dropped her inquiry. "He said to lose the body," she replied. "And since you've self-appointed yourself helpful-boy, you can have that job."

"Why thank you, Slayer, you're too kind," he said, picking up his duster and sliding it on before moving carefully out onto the ice.

Buffy giggled as she watched him struggle and trying not to fall. After his fifth attempt to pull the body across the ice, she took pity on him and skated onto the rink. Grabbing the creatures arms, she skated backwards and dragged it and a blue line of blood to the hard floor. "You can take it from here, Spike. I'm going to get my shoes on and jet."

Spike turned his head to the area next to her and glared, then asked, "Do you need a ride, pet?"

Buffy looked to where he was looking, but saw nothing glare-worthy. She glanced behind her with the same results. "Um, no, that's ok," she replied, growing steadily more uncertain of his mental stability. "I'll walk."

"You're not afraid of me, are you, Slayer?" Spike said, a mocking grin on his face.

"Not," she said. "You're about as scary as my stuffed pig, only he doesn't cry."

"I don't cry," he scowled.

"Then you must've had something really big in your eyes last time you were here," she said sweetly. She turned and headed back out of the rink. "Bye Spike."

As she left, she heard him growl, "Bloody woman. And you, shut your hole before I make you walk."

"What a strange, strange vampire," Buffy said to herself. "Now why didn't I stake him when I had the chance?"

Part Two

"Honey, I'm home!" Spike yelled as he and Nia entered the mansion. When he didn't get an answer, he frowned. "Snookums?"

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Nia said, walking further into the main room. She turned on the lights. "Wow, this place is huge."

"I know," Spike replied, heading for the master bedroom.

"I'm going to go explore," she called to him.

"No wonder the Slayer hit me," he commented upon finding no clothing in the bedroom. He chuckled, his mood improving with the fact that his sire was AWOL. "Sayonara, Angel."

Returning to the main room, Spike wrinkled his nose at the dust covering everything. He may be dead and far from a neat vampire, but some things bothered him. "Nia! Wave your bleedin' magic wand or whatever and get rid of this dust!"

Nia came around the corner from the hall to the other bedrooms. "I'm not your maid. Clean it yourself."

He turned puppy dog eyes on her. "Please?"

"Oh brother," she said, rolling her eyes. "I think you got this whole punishment thing wrong." She made a gesture with her hand and the dust vanished throughout the mansion. "I'm suppose to make you do things, not the other way around."

"I like my way better," he joked, then flopped down on the now-clean couch.

"So, what's your plan, oh sultan of the undead?" Nia asked, perching on the arm beside him.

"Feed, sleep, shag...," he trailed off when Nia glared at him and gave her a shameless grin. "I figured we'd find the Slayer after we stop by the butcher's and stock up. Peaches has to have a fridge around here somewhere."

"My guess would be the kitchen," she said.

Spike shook his head and stood. "Electricity is still on, so my bet is the water is, too. Try to get lost while I clean up. I won't miss you."

"You are just too funny, Billy," Nia told him.

"My room's the third on the left, you can have any of the others," Spike said as he left the room. He paused and scowled over his shoulder at her. "And stop calling me Billy."

"Whatever you say...Billy!"

Spike sighed and headed back to the bathroom. He didn't have to worry about the ghost popping upon him unexpectedly, unless he tried to do something stupid, like escape through a window. He figured she had some sort of magical radar on him that let her know where he was at all times. They had an unwritten agreement that she would not bother him when he was either in the bathroom or in his own bedroom, which was why when they changed motels, he'd gotten a suite. He could only spend so much time with her before he wanted to claw his eyes out in frustration.

It wasn't that Nia was a bad companion. In fact, Spike understood pretty quickly that he had gotten off light when he was cursed to be haunted by her for however long she decided. Of course, he'd be dust when she decided justice had been served, so he wanted her to haunt him for a very long time, because he liked unlife, even if he had to be good. He could still be bad while being good, it just took creativity. A high threshold for pain helped, too.

The one problem that he had with Nia, other than the fact that she kept calling him Billy, was that she very much enjoyed putting him in a position where he would make a fool of himself, like at the skating rink when she suddenly left his body. It was too bad the demon inside him didn't seem to notice when the ghost was inhabiting him, because he'd love for it to rough her up a bit so she'd stay out of him. Luckily, she now asked before she invaded, so he was prepared for it.

After a quick shower, he went to the dust-free bedroom that had been his those few months he'd lived here. The bedroom he'd found refuge in while Drusilla cavorted like a bitch in heat with her daddy. The bedroom where he worked his ass off to finish building back the strength in his legs. The bedroom where he planned his sire's downfall.

Throwing himself on the bed, Spike stared up at the stippled ceiling and reined in his anger over events in the past. The past was the past and there was no changing it, so there was no use getting upset over it. He growled and flipped over onto his stomach, then pulled the pillow over his head. A short while later, he fell into a deep sleep.

*****

Buffy was unaware of the ghost watching her as she crept into the mansion around mid-morning. The Slayer hadn't been to the hulking residence since Angel had left and was surprised at its cleanliness. She would have figured that a thick layer of dust would have been over everything.

Moving silently, she prowled around the main rooms, then down the hallway, searching for Spike. Her stake was drawn and ready to be used like it should have been the previous night. She could hardly believe that she hadn't even attempted to fight him, let alone end his unlife. Instead, she had conversed like he wasn't a member of the evil bloodsucker sect.

She saw bare feet first when she opened the third door on the left. They were face down on a dark bedspread, which was on large bed she could see from the doorway. Slowly, she opened the door further and was treated to more bare skin coming into view. Muscular calves, the pale backs to knees, thighs...

Buffy froze with the door blocking her view of anything higher. Her mind was telling her that seeing her enemy sans clothing was not something she should do. Her hormones and everything else that made her a red-blooded woman were screaming at her, telling her to get her butt in that bedroom and check out the obviously fine specimen of male. After a brief debate, the woman won over rationality, and she entered the bedroom.

"Oh my," she breathed. Spike was completely nude, lying face down on the bed, arms around the pillow his head laid on. Arms in which the biceps and triceps were well-defined, his forearms muscular and powerful. She let her eyes travel over his shoulders and down the strong line of his back to the firm buttocks and back to those thighs she'd stopped at moments before.

Tearing her eyes from his sexy backside, she studied his face. Part of it was blocked by his strong arm holding the pillow, but what she could see was relaxed in sleep. His lashes were long and dark, creating shadows beneath his eyes. His cheekbones were sculpted and the part of his nose she could see straight and fitting for his face. The scar splitting his brow was the only thing stopping him from being too perfect, giving him a bad boy edge.

She wondered what he would feel like when she ran her hands over him, then violently shoved the naughty thought away. She did not want to touch him. She did not want too see if his butt was a firm as it looked. She did not want to feel those thighs pressed against hers. She did not want to feel those thighs in between hers. She did not want him to turn over so she could see the rest of him.

She was lying to herself.

"Damn," she said under her breath, tucking the stake up her sleeve. She couldn't kill him. Not while he was so scrumptiously naked and asleep in bed. A bed that was big and dark and looked like it was created specifically for passionate nights of skin touching skin. Touching his skin. Feeling his skin against hers. Feeling him inside of...

Buffy turned and fled.

The ghost that had been watching and listening to the Slayer's thoughts laughed delightedly. "This is going to be such fun."

*****

"It always amazes me how bloody oblivious people in this burg are," Spike commented, white plastic bag hanging from his fingers. "Isn't anyone suspicious of a request for four quarts of animal blood at eight-thirty at night?"

"Maybe they're used to it," Nia suggested, walking beside him, her steps silent on the street. "Didn't you say that Angel bought from there?"

"He'd had to have," he replied. "Unless he was copping from the infirmary."

"I don't think his soul would let him do that," she said.

Spike shrugged. "Probably not. Now me on the other hand..."

"Don't even think it, Billy goat," Nia warned.

"It's not like they use it a-aaarrhh." Spike clamped a hand over his right side as he bent double in pain. "Nia."

Nia dropped her hand. "I said not to even think it."

"I was joking, woman," he growled, untucking his shirt to look at the damage the ghost had caused. She'd hit the same spot he had the healing scar, only now the area was blackened and had the odor of charred flesh. "Bloody hell, Nia. I'm never going to heal if you keep that up."

"Then don't push my buttons," Nia told him. She resumed walking, her hands in the pockets of her never-changing, loose, cotton dress she'd been buried in. It was an off-white color, fitted with dark brown piping along the simple, scooped collar, the cuffs of the puffed sleeves and along the ankle length skirt. Her black braid swung behind her as she walked, brushing the middle of her back.

Spike grumbled under his non-existent breath and caught up with her, leaving his shirt half-untucked. "After I get this stuff back to the mansion, we'll set about finding the Slayer," he said, changing the subject.

"Won't be too hard," Nia said. "Seeing as she's right there."

The blond vampire raised his head sharply and saw the object of his non-affection walking up the street towards them. "Damn," he swore, shifting the plastic bag behind his back. "You could have warned me sooner."

"And ruin my fun?" she said with a smile. "No chance, Billy Bob."

"Stop calling me Billy," he growled at her, then put on a sardonic grin for Buffy. "Hello, Slayer. Fancy meeting you out and about."

"Nighttime, sacred duty, ring any bells in that empty head of yours?" Buffy said. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. "So, who have you been eating? Anyone I know?"

"Why, pet, I'm hurt," he said dramatically. "What makes you think I'd do something like that?"

"Cut the crap, bleach-head," she snapped. "I don't know why you're really here or what stupid scheme your pea brain thought up, but you have five minutes to get out of my town or I will give you a wooden enema."

"I'd like to see that," Nia said, grinning ridiculously.

Buffy stormed passed him, then stopped and turned around rapidly. "What do you have behind your back?"

"Er, nothing," Spike lied, shifting the bag behind his back. She would have to notice. He also wondered what her outburst was about. He had been on his best behavior and everything.

"Spike." The Slayer's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What. Is. Behind. Your. Back."

"I like her," Nia commented. Spike saw the ghost lift her hand and then heard the bag rustling behind him.

"I have to go, luv," Spike said quickly, gritting his teeth together so as not to look at Nia. "I'll meet up with you later."

"Now, Spike," Buffy growled at him.

Spike did what any man, vampire or mortal, did when faced with an angry woman. He turned tail and practically ran. "Bye, Slayer!"

Of course, most men didn't have a ghost haunting them like Spike did, who's greatest source of amusement was embarrassing him. The bag handles suddenly broke, sending the bag thudding to the ground, miraculously -- or not, considering the source of the break - landing without falling onto its side. Then Spike tripped over air, falling face first towards the pavement just past the bag. He landed with a hard smack of his hands and his knees cracking painfully on the ground.

"Nia," he hissed, listening to the ghost's laughter.

He heard Buffy's footsteps towards him. "Clutzy much?" she asked.

Pushing himself up, Spike got to his feet the same time the Slayer got to his bag. "Oh, bugger," he sighed as she pulled out one of containers. He looked beyond her to Nia and muttered, "Thanks a lot."

"My pleasure," Nia said, curtseying.

"This is blood from the butcher's shop," Buffy gasped. "Angel used to go..." She looked up at him. "Why do you have this?"

"I thought I'd take up finger painting," Spike replied sarcastically. Buffy studied him silently and he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable by her scrutiny. He glared again at Nia and hoped that she was reading murderous thoughts about her.

"Were you serious about helping me?" Buffy finally asked.

Spike dropped his gaze to the Slayer and met her eyes squarely. "Yes."

"And I take it by this..." She put the container back into the bag. "You don't feed from humans anymore."

"Either that or I found a new method of draining them," Spike said with a smirk.

Buffy stood and wiped her hands on her pants. "One hour. Outside the old high school," she said, then turned and walked away.

Spike watched her retreating form until she turned the corner down a side street, then he sighed again. Why wasn't unlife ever simple? He picked up his broken bag and, with a glowering glance at Nia, turned and headed in the opposite direction.

Nia grinned and called out innocently, "What did I do, Billy?"

"Stop calling me Billy!"

Part Three

Buffy looked over the rubble that was the old Sunnydale High School. They had gotten lucky. Only twelve had been killed during the Mayor's ascension; but to Buffy, that was twelve too many. Nothing had been built on the site, even though over six months had passed, and she doubted anything ever would. Too many bad vibes from the Hellmouth located directly below what remained of the library.

She sighed and looked around for the familiar peroxide-blond head of Spike. She couldn't believe what she had seen earlier. Spike -- naked...

The containers of blood were confounding, too.

But, Spike -- naked...

Shaking her head, she tried to get rid of the picture firmly embedded in her mind of the vampire laying front down on his bed, his strong, lean body begging for her touch. Begging for her to taste his skin by running her tongue up his spine and watch him shiver because of it. Begging her to find out if she could make him...

"Stop, stop, stop," Buffy told herself firmly. "You are not that hard up for a guy that you should be drooling over an obnoxious vampire who can't even follow the simplest of instructions! So what if he's sexy? There are all sorts of sexy guys on campus. And they have a pulse, too!"

Her stern lecture to herself did nothing to dispel her lustful thoughts about Spike. With another sigh, she forced herself to look around once more for the vampire in question. She wondered what was up with him. Not feeding from humans, wanting to help her, tripping over air and falling flat on his face...

The last one puzzled her. If she hadn't been standing right there, she would have sworn he really did trip over an object in the road, or perhaps been pushed. He was normally quite graceful, moving from place to place with a predator's confidence, fighting with a fluidity that she envied at times. And he looked so very yummy naked.

"Enough with the naked already!" Buffy growled to herself. She shoved her hands violently in the pockets of her jacket and glared down the street. It was good timing, for she saw Spike heading towards her in the distance.

The shadows of the destroyed school kept her hidden from view, giving her a chance to observe him without his noticing. His step was sure and full of cocky confidence, daring anyone to challenge him from walking down the street. She noticed the way he kept scanning the area around him, searching for other predators of the night, as a good fighter did.

Then she saw him stop, face right and start arguing with the air. He raised his hand and shook a finger at the non-existent person he was talking to and then glare at the empty space as if receiving a reply.

"Ok, this is way wig-worthy," Buffy said quietly to herself. She watched as Spike threw his hands in the air in a mimic of defeat, then continue his way towards her. When he did nothing out-of- sorts again, she made her presence known by stepping into the street where he would be able to see her.

*****

"There she is," Spike said under his non-existent breath. "Now, will you please try not to destroy what little dignity I have left?"

"I'll try," Nia replied. "It won't be easy, though. You're are so entertaining."

"Watch the telly," he muttered.

"No cable," she said.

Spike bit back his sigh and plastered a cocky grin on his face. "Slayer," he said pleasantly, reaching the petite blond. He surveyed the ruins of the high school. "Your work?"

"Well, I burned down the gym at my first high school," Buffy replied with a small shrug. "I figured I had to top that."

"I'd say you did a right good job at that," he commented. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, more out of a need to occupy his hands than because of the nicotine. "So, pet..." He let the sentence dangle, expecting her to finish it.

"You want to help," Buffy stated. He nodded. "Are we talking slaying vampires or just watching my back or what?"

"Whatever you wish, luv," he answered.

"Are you sure that you're Spike?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

Spike sucked in an unneeded breath as her hair fell away from her neck, baring it in an enticing manner. A bolt of longing shot through him, longing to mark her as his, to nuzzle that bit of flesh as she lay under him, her naked body pressed against his. Never before had he had this instantaneous of a reaction to anyone, mortal or otherwise.

Yes, he had lusted after the Slayer in the past. Who wouldn't? She was a sexy bundle of muscle and softness -- petite and powerful. Everything one would look for in a lover and that was before seeing her fight. Once seeing her strong, sure movements, there was no choice in thinking about what she would be like in bed.

But to want to mark her? To possess her as his own? The Slayer? Perhaps Nia had messed with his mind a little too often.

"Hello? Spike?" Buffy waved her hand in front of his face. "Anyone home?"

"Do what?" Spike said, snapping back from his thoughts.

"You zoned," Nia told him. "Naughty, naughty, Billy. Thinking about her like that."

"Sorry, Slayer," Spike said, wondering why he wasn't in pain since Nia had read his thoughts. Necks and his fangs were off limits as far as the ghost was concerned, even in thought. "And yes, I'm certain I'm the Spike you know and love to hate."

"Right," Buffy drawled out. She pulled a extra stake out of the back waistband of her pants. "Well, if you want to help, there are some things you want to know."

Spike looked at the stake warily. "Such as?"

"First of all, they pay is lousy," she said, then grinned. "And the job has a tendency to suck the social life out of you."

"Mine's been pretty dead lately, so no worries," Spike joked back.

Buffy groaned and held out the stake. "Second, this is a stake. The stake is your friend. Anything that has fangs and goes 'grr', use it on them."

"She's...what do you call it? Cheeky?" Nia commented.

"I think I know what a stake is, pet," Spike said, taking the whittled wood from Buffy.

"Third," Buffy continued, holding up three fingers. "If I look like I could use a hand, don't hesitate to give it. Same goes for any of the others."

"Others?" Nia asked.

Spike turned to answer Nia, then caught himself and returned his attention to Buffy. "Help your chums, right. Anything else?"

"Yeah, this is strange to the extreme," Buffy said. "I can't believe that you want to do this."

"You've already inferred that five bloody times, Slayer," Spike said. "You're starting to sound like a broken recording."

"Isn't it suppose to be 'a broken record'?" Nia asked.

"Isn't it suppose to be 'a broken record'?" Buffy said.

Spike lowered his head and rubbed his eyes as Nia chuckled. "Swell," he muttered. "Worse than bleedin' parrots."

"What was that, Spike?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing, pet," Spike replied. He pushed up his sleeve and looked at the watch-face on his inner wrist. A watch Nia had made him get in order to be on time to the pictures. Ones that she chose, of course. He'd had to sit through Never Been Kissed six times with her in his body so she could taste popcorn and other fang-rotting treats.

"It's ten now," he said. "Prime hunting time."

"And you would know," Buffy said. He shrugged, a half-grin tugging his lips. "Well, come on then. Let's go see if you're trying to sell me some ocean-front property in Arizona."

As she started to walk away, his eyes dropped to her backside. He smiled wolfishly.

Being good was going to have some benefits.

*****

"Slayer, straight up!"

Buffy crouched and jumped straight up into the air, catching the tree branch and swinging up onto it at Spike's yell. The three vampires that had been about to charge her crashed into each other, falling to the ground in a heap. She grabbed her stake and threw it at one of them. It embedded in the vampire's heart, sending him to a dusty death.

Spike grabbed the vampire he was fighting and threw him against the tree Buffy was in. He ducked as another one took a swing at him from behind. He lashed out with his leg in a back kick, catching the vamp mid-chest and sending him staggering back. The one against the tree punched him as he straightened. He blocked the second strike with his forearm and plunged his stake into the vampire's chest.

Buffy made a quick survey of the fight. Between the two of them, they'd already dusted five vampires. There were four left, two of the three that charged her and two going after Spike. With a predator's grace, she dropped down from the tree on top of one of the vampire's shoulders as he stood. They both fell to the ground and she went into a forward roll, rolling up to her feet.

She spun and kicked the second one across the jaw, as she let another stake drop out of her sleeve to her hand. She reached out and grabbed the first attacker's hair as he was getting to his feet. She slammed his face down as she thrust her knee up, cracking him in the face. She sensed rather than saw the second one coming up behind her, and she kicked straight back and up.

Spike punched, blocked and punched again, keeping one eye on the Slayer, as he fought the remaining two vampires attacking him. With a vicious jab, he clipped the vampire in the throat, then shoved the stake into his heart. Without pause, he leapt forward at another foe, his duster billowing out behind him at his quick movements.

Buffy staked the vampire behind her with a quick, sharp twist of her body before he knew she even did it. As he exploded into dust, she returned her attention back to the one on his knees in front of her. She backhanded him with her left hand, following immediately with a punch by her right, the stake still clutched in that hand. Her foot shot forward in a dirty move, kicking him between the legs. He let out a strangled cry, bending forward to cup himself, and Buffy jammed the stake through his back.

She turned in a circle, checking for more opponents, and saw Spike stake the last one of their attackers. She relaxed and brushed her hair back from her face. "Looks like that's all of them."

"Is this normal, Slayer?" Spike asked, dropping the stake into the pocket of his duster. He glanced over at Nia, who was sitting on top of a headstone, and she showed her approval by a polite round of clapping.

"Sometimes," Buffy replied. "If there's more than four or five, I usually take the cowards way out and run like hell."

"No cowardice in knowing when to fold," Spike told her.

"Did you get that out of a fortune cookie, Billy?" Nia asked.

Spike scowled at the ghost, then walked over to Buffy. "Now what, pet?"

"Now Buffy goes back to the dorm, changes clothes, then does that late night study/snack session," Buffy replied. "I have a history test tomorrow at ten."

"Do you need a ride?" he asked, falling into step beside her as they left the cemetery.

"Normally, I'd say no because I don't accept rides from strangers and no one gets any stranger than you."

"She has you there," Nia commented.

"But...," Spike prompted, ignoring the ghost.

"But I really don't want to walk all that way after our Lost Boys fight," Buffy finished. "Plus, I think you've proven you do want to help. At least, for now."

"My motor's at the mansion," he said. "That's where I'm staying, in case you need to find me."

"She knows," Nia said with a giggle. Spike looked questioningly at the ghost, who was walking on the other side of him. She grinned and giggled again.

"I was surprised not to find the hair-miester in residence," he said, shaking his head slightly at Nia's laughter.

"Angel's in LA," Buffy informed him.

At the resignation in her voice, he asked, "I take it that's a permanent arrangement?"

"Like a stake in the heart," Buffy replied sullenly.

"I'm sorry," Spike told her, truthfully. He knew first hand about love lost. Drusilla was in Europe, living the vampire high-unlife with everyone that wasn't him. When she'd gone, first he had raged, then he had cried, then he had let her go.

"'S-ok," she said with a shrug. "It was inevitable. I said yes, the curse said no, so off he went." She blew out a breath of air. "Curses suck."

"You're telling me," Spike muttered.

"I think I'm the one that got cursed, not you, Billy-boy," Nia said.

Spike ignored Nia and the three lapsed into silence until they reached the mansion. "Give me a second, pet," he told Buffy before walking into the hulking monstrosity. The moment the outer door closed, he turned to Nia. "Let me drive her without you."

"Fat chance," Nia snorted.

"Nothing's gonna bloody happen," Spike said. "I just want to drive her without having you hanging over my shoulder."

"Uh, hello, reality check," Nia said, waving her hand. "You don't get a choice."

"It's just a fucking ride in the car!"

"And I said fat fucking chance!"

"Uh, Spike?"

"What?!" Spike whirled to the door and saw Buffy standing their with a startled look on her face.

"Nothing," Buffy replied. "I think I'll, um, walk."

"No," he said quickly. Then he took a purposeful breath and let it out slowly. "That's ok. I'm ready to go."

She gave him an unfathomable look, then nodded. He gestured to the open door and waited until she went out it before glaring at Nia. "Thank a lot, bitch."

Nia lifted her hand. "You're welcome, jackass."

Spike growled in pain and grabbed his hand. When she dropped hers, he looked at the back of his burned hand, then flicked her off with it. Then he stormed out the door and slammed it behind him.

Part Four

Buffy glanced out of the corner of her eye at the vampire beside her. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white, and he kept glaring daggers at the rear view mirror. Every so often she would look into the back seat, wondering what he could be angry at.

She had heard him yelling from outside the door earlier when she'd wanted to get a glass of water before they left. She was surprised to find him alone and then again when he snapped at her for no reason. Something wasn't right in Spike-land and she aimed to find out exactly what it was.

"Turn left up here," Buffy said as they approached the back road to her dorm. He nodded, then she saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel the same time his back stiffened. He glared in the rear view mirror for a long moment, then returned his eyes to the road in time to turn. She looked behind her. "What's up with the convenience store robber routine?"

"What?" Spike asked, turning a puzzled frown on her.

"You keep looking behind us. Should I be worried?"

"Er, no," he replied. He gave her a half-smirk. "Too much caffeine."

"Uh-huh," Buffy said, skeptically. She glanced out the open side window. "Second building on the right."

"So this is your home away from home, eh?" he asked, pulling up to the curb and shutting off the motor. "Looks institutional."

"What gave it away, the matching stained curtains from the seventies in every window?" Buffy joked.

Spike chuckled and climbed out of the car. Buffy frowned at his empty seat, then was pleasantly surprised when he opened her door. "M'lady," he said, holding out his hand and executing a half- bow.

"Since when did you get manners?" Buffy asked, taking his hand and allowing him to help her out of the car.

He shut the car door with his foot and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "They were always there, sweet," he said, patting her hand, as they started for the door. "Just cleverly disguised as rage and violence."

"Have I told you that you were strange? If not, you're strange," she said. She rolled her eyes at his lopsided grin, took a deep breath and sighed. "I so do not want to study."

"What's the topic again?" he asked.

"Nineteenth century romanticism," she answered.

"'Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! On my life, There's more of wisdom in it.'"

Buffy stopped walking and looked at him. "What was that?"

"Wordsworth," Spike replied with a wink. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed again.

"Let me guess, you're an expert at nineteenth century romanticism," Buffy said.

"Considering I was around during the nineteenth century and your ex was a bloody toff, I'd say a little," he replied.

"You're hired."

"What?" Spike asked, giving her a confused look.

"You, my dear in-need-of-a-bleach-job vampire," Buffy said, changing their arms so hers was linked through his. "Are going to tutor me tonight in history."

"I are?"

"You are," she replied with a firm nod of her head.

"Shut up, Nia." Buffy heard him mutter, but shrugged it off, as she dragged him towards her dorm.

*****

"I don't love you no more," Buffy said, a pout forming on her face.

"Come on, Slayer. You know this," Spike prodded. He was sitting at the desk in the small dorm room, his feet propped on the fake-wooden surface, Buffy's history text in his lap. Buffy was on her bed, sitting cross-legged in her 'comfy clothes,' a pair of track pants and tank top. "Name the five major poets of the age of romanticism."

"Um, Wordsworth...Keats," Buffy replied. "Er, Byron?"

"That's three," he said with a nod.

Buffy thought for a moment. "Oh! That Sir Walter guy."

"Scott," Spike agreed. "One more."

"She's never going to get it," Nia said. Spike turned casually to the ghost sitting on Willow's bed and pinned her with a glare. "She's not. You've been over this how many times now?"

"Uh, I don't know," Buffy said, falling forward and face in the comforter. "I'm such the uber- moron."

"Told you," Nia said.

"Shelley is the last one, pet," Spike told Buffy.

"I'm never going to remember him," Buffy whined.

"'Sometimes The Devil is a gentleman.'"

Buffy raised her head. "That describes you."

Spike's lips curled up in a smile. "It should. He wrote it about me."

"No way," Nia said.

"No way," Buffy said, straightening.

"He did," Spike said. "I met him in a pub around 1815. Bought him a pint, chatted with him, flashed a bit of fang at him out on the street later and he said that."

"You ate Shelley?" she said incredulously.

"No, I didn't eat Shelley." He scowled at her. "I was only playing around with the git. Besides, Angelus was calling after me like I was a bloody pup..."

"And you went like a good doggie," Buffy teased. She tapped her lips with a finger. "I wonder. If you ate him, would he have become one of the romantic poets?"

Spike laughed and Buffy smiled at him. "Cor, pet, that's an idea. I wonder who I killed over time that could've been someone you had to study."

"Billy me boy, not liking the direction of this conversation," Nia warned.

Spike barely caught himself before telling the ghost to sod off. He thumped the textbook with the pen in his hand and changed the subject as ordered. "Well, Slayer, I think you've got everything pretty much down."

"You mean we're done?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"Yes, we're done," he replied.

"Yay!" she exclaimed, bouncing her head in a childish manner. "No more studying, no more studying."

"Your Slayer is not all there upstairs, is she?" Nia commented.

Spike scratched his neck, flicked her off, and scratched his neck again so as Buffy wouldn't notice. He'd happily kill Nia again if he could. Only he was allowed to insult the Slayer.

"You're getting possessive in your old age, Billy."

"Stop reading my mind," he muttered under his non-existent breath. "And stop calling me Billy."

"Anything you say, Billy," Nia replied with a salute.

Spike closed the textbook and set it on the desk. He glanced at his watch and was surprised at how late, or rather early in the morning, it was.

"Well, luv, I'd better go," he said to Buffy, rising to his feet.

"Yeah, I should get some sleep so I don't snooze through the test," Buffy said. "Not after you romanticized me like crazy."

He chuckled and headed for the door of the small dorm room. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Slayer."

"'K," Buffy replied.

Spike paused in the open doorway and looked back at Buffy. Her hair was falling out of its haphazard ponytail and she was freshly scrubbed of all makeup. His heart would have skipped a beat if it was active and he quoted:

"'For she was beautiful -- her beauty made The bright world dim, and everything beside Seemed like the fleeting image of a shade.'"

Buffy blushed prettily. "Who wrote that?"

"Shelley," Spike replied. Then he gave her a small smile and pulled the door closed behind him.

*****

"You are pathetic," Nia said as she popped up out of nowhere beside him when he was almost out of the dorm.

"Sod off," he growled.

"'Oh fair, Slayer. How do your big hazel eyes bat at me,'" Nia said dramatically. She changed her voice to high falsetto. "'Take me, Billy. Wrap your big, manly fangs around me.'"

Spike growled again, shoving open the main doors to the dorm and storming out into the night. "I said sod off."

"'The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling For you but not for me. O Death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling, O Grave, thy victoree?'"

"Will you give it a bloody rest already?" he hissed. He practically wrenched his car door off. "Cor, it's bad enough that I have to put up with your snide comments about me, but I draw the bleedin' line at you making fun of the Slayer!"

"Billy's gotta crush, Billy's gotta crush," Nia sang. She disappeared and reappeared in the front seat, then continued. "Billy's gotta crush."

"STOP CALLING ME BILLY!!" Spike yelled at her after he got into the car. He jammed his key in the ignition, started the car, then peeled away from the dorm.

"Woah, slow down there, cowboy," she said. "I wouldn't want you to kill yourself before I had the chance to kill you."

Spike abruptly pulled over to the side of the road and he faced the ghost. "Listen, you stupid sow, I am sick of this haunting bullocks. Either end my unlife or shut the bloody hell up and leave me alone for awhile."

"You don't get a choice, Billy," Nia said calmly. "The curse is a punishment, it was not placed on you because my tribe had nothing better to do one Friday night. Do you know what the definition of punishment is?"

"I just bet you're going to tell me," he said sardonically.

"It means that I can do whatever the hell I want with you and you have no say over it, understand?"

"Loud and clear," he spat.

"Good," Nia stated.

Spike pulled the car back onto the road and headed back for the mansion. He planned on hiding out in his room for the next sixteen hours to try and reign in his anger. Even though he said for her to kill him, he really wasn't ready for permanent death yet. Especially not since he'd forgotten how beautiful the Slayer really was.

"Billy and the Slayer, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Nia sang quietly.

"Sod off," Spike muttered. "And stop calling me Billy."

"Yes, Billy."

Part Five

Spike kissed up Buffy's inner thigh, moving ever closer to the source of the musky smell that was driving him wild. The Slayer spread her legs further apart, giving him access and a perfect view of her dark pink folds and the dark curls protecting her womanhood. He slid his lips along her heated skin, bring his mouth within centimeters of tasting her. He raised his eyes to gaze at her anticipatory face...

...And found Nia standing beside the bed, watching.

"AAAHHH!" Spike yelled, sitting bolt upright in bed. The sheet that had been over his nude form fell around his waist as he looked wildly around the room. Faint daylight came through the dark curtains over the single window.

Running a hand through his short hair, he took a purposeful breath and let it out slowly. "Bloody hell," he cursed, shaken by the dream. It wasn't the first one, either. Almost daily, in the month that he'd been helping Buffy, he'd had erotic dreams of himself and the Slayer which were ruined by the ghost suddenly appearing.

Since his blow up in the car with Nia, he'd managed to get back on an even keel with her. She agreed not to torture him too often when he was working with the Slayer, for which he was grateful. It made it easier for him to help the petite blond and it gave him a chance to get to know her better.

Spike fell back onto the pillow and folded his hands on his stomach. He let his mind travel away from the disturbing aspect of his dream to the Slayer herself. She was such a bundle of contradictions. Smart and naive. Soft and hard. Weak and strong. Rough and gentle. Loving and deadly. One moment he wanted to fight with her, the next he wanted to make love to her.

Nia insisted that he was falling in love with Buffy, to which he scoffed at. There was no way he would ever fall in love with the Slayer, despite her being incredibly sexy and sensitive and so enjoyable to be around. He'd been in love before and look where that had gotten him -- stuck in Sunnydale helping someone who, conceivably, should be his enemy and haunted by a ghost who insisted on calling him Billy. He'd rather have his fangs pulled and take a bath in holy water than fall in love again.

*****

Buffy looked down at the picture she was doodling in her notebook during lecture and moaned quietly. While she was no artist, there was no mistaking the sharp cheekbones or the devilish glint in the eyes of the face she had drawn. She purposely turned the page, only to find it covered with drawings of the same type, however with more detail and sometimes a lot less clothing.

She put her hand over her eyes and whimpered slightly. For the life of her, she couldn't seem to get Spike out of her mind. He invaded her thoughts and daydreams during classes and walked, or rather strutted, beside her every evening. Then when nighttime came along and it was time for her to sleep, she was plagued with dreams that were so erotic, she woke up flushed and wanting him and having to take extremely cold showers.

It didn't help that he was fun to be around since he was not killing anyone but the bad guys. She had gotten an A- on her history test and, when she'd recruited him again to help her with English, she'd gotten a B+ on the test, both grades she never expected she would see. Her average tended to stay in the low B-/high C+ range because of her slaying duties. But, because of his help and her enjoyment in studying with him, she'd gotten better grades.

Academic wise was by far the least reason she enjoyed his company. He was witty, more intelligent than she'd ever given him credit for and a hopeless romantic -- which was really strange, considering he was a demon - who knew more poetry by heart than her English professor. He loved hard rock and classic rock, and sang really off-key when he was in a silly mood. One time, he was so hyper, he practically bounced between the trees and headstones like a vampire pinball. That was a very interesting night.

The only thing she had yet to figure out was why he would sometimes glare at nothing or mutter something so quietly, she barely caught it. She had talked to Giles about it, but he did not have an answer. Xander had helpfully suggested that a century of living with Drusilla and a century before that with Angelus had made him "zick in ze head." Willow's suggestion made more sense; his odd actions were something he'd always done, but she hadn't noticed because they weren't the best of friends before Spike had returned to Sunnydale.

Buffy was happy to put up with his oddities because of his help with slaying. Her job was ten times easier with him than without him. She was able to go after bigger groups of vampires and having someone watching her back who could easily take care of himself was wonderful. She loved her friends and Giles, but sometimes she was too worried about them being hurt than she was of doing what she was suppose to be doing.

Of course, she tried to convince herself that was the only reason she put up with Spike. However, her dreams and doodles told her otherwise. Especially the one of the heart with the words 'Buffy + Spike' written inside of it she'd just spotted on the page. She whimpered again and thudded her head on notebook a couple of times, hoping to knock some sense into her.

The only thing it did was make the professor call on her.

*****

"Nia, my favorite ghost," Spike called as he emerged from his bedroom. "Where are you?"

Nia looked at him with an arched brow from her seat on the couch in the main portion of the mansion. "What's up with you?"

Spike hopped up on the edge of the couch, swinging his legs around so his rear was on the arm and his feet were on the cushions. After his disturbing erotic dream had woken him up, he'd managed to fall back to sleep again for a record five more hours. Five hours of perfect, dreamless sleep. He felt wonderful, cheerful, giddy, jubilant, ecstatic, energetic, joyous, silly, happy, marvelous...

"Oh no, you're hyper," Nia realized, dread in her voice. "This is not good."

"I'm not hyper," Spike said, scowling at her. He began to bounce his toes off the couch cushion.

"Right," Nia said. "And I'm not a ghost."

"I," he said, pausing dramatically. "Am going to go to the mall. There's a new recording I want to get, which means you," dramatic pause, "are to be on your best bloody behavior."

"What about your Slayer?"

"What about her?"

"Duh, helping her," Nia said. "Or have you forgotten your reason for still living, Billy?"

"Stop calling me Billy," Spike told her. "And the Slayer has some stupid dance thing to go to at nine, so I'm as free..." He suddenly launched into song. "As a bird now. And this bird you cannot cha-a-a-ange..."

"Someone kill me," Nia whimpered, holding her head in her hands.

Spike smirked at her. "Too late."

*****

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," large sigh, "no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

Nia stared at Spike as he flipped through CD after CD in the music store. He was driving her crazy, which was what she was suppose to be doing to him. If she wasn't already dead, she'd happily throw herself in front of a fast-moving truck just to put herself out of misery.

Spike didn't get completely hyper too often because he couldn't sleep long enough to get that way; but when he did, look out. He was worse than a five-year-old on Christmas morning after Santa had visited.

"Billy, you do realize that people are looking at you," Nia said.

Spike looked up from his perusal of the CDs to see a teen in another aisle practically laughing at him. With a wicked smile, he flashed his true face and the teen bolted from the music store. He chuckled. "Not any more."

A new song began to play over the stores speakers and the blond vampire began to sing along with it. Luckily, in Nia's opinion, he was singing to himself, rather than belting out the lyrics as he did on the walk over to the mall. "'Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogie said up jump the boogie. Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogie said up jump the boogie.'"

"Oh god, not this song," Nia sighed. She looked around for some way to get him to stop singing as he continue to flip through the CDs.

"'And this is for the questions that don't have any answers
The midnight glancers and the topless dancers
The gang of freaks, cars packed with speakers
The Gs with the forties and the chicks with beepers
The Northern Lights and the Southern Comfort
And it don't even matter if your veins are punctured
All the crackheads, the critics, the cynics
And all my heros in the Methodone Clinic
All you bastards at the IRS.'"

Spike was oblivious to Nia's search for her sanity. He was glad the store was playing something he recognized, rather than the crud they'd been playing when he'd first arrived. He picked up the new Nine Inch Nails CD and looked at the back as he continued singing.

"'For the crooked cops and the cluttered desks
For the shots of jack and the caps of meth
Half pints of love and the fifths of stress
For the hookers all trickin' out in Hollywood
And for the hoods of the world misunderstood
I said it's all good and it's all in fun
Now get in the pit and try to love someone!'"

Nia saw her savior just passing outside of the store with a bag in her hand. Appearing at her side, the ghost did something she had not tried before -- talking to someone other than Spike.

"Buffy," she projected to the blond. "Buffy can you hear me?"

Buffy stopped and looked around. Nia grinned. "Buffy, go into the music store."

"Is someone talking to me?" Buffy said, turning in a circle.

"Please go into the music store," Nia said, slightly begging.

Buffy looked at the music store with a frown. She took a hesitant step towards it, then shook her head and started down the hall again.

"Buffy, Spike wants you in the music store," Nia said, hoping that would get the blond's cooperation.

"Spike?" Buffy said. She looked back into the music store and a smile crossed her face.

Nia breathed a sigh of relief as the Slayer headed into the store. Perhaps Spike would calm down because of Buffy's presence and stop driving her up a wall.

*****

Buffy giggled when she heard Spike singing along to the song over the store speakers. His head was slightly bobbing to the beat and he was using two hands to flip through CDs, one of which was hooked over his wrist by the security holder.

"Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogie said up jump the boogie For the love, and for the hate And for the peace WAAAAR!!'"

She started to clap and his head shot up. She gave him a mocking look and he grinned sheepishly. "Hello, luv," he said.

"Are you going to sing an encore?" Buffy asked sweetly.

"No," Spike said as a new song came over the speaker. "But I will dance."

"Wha-Spike!" Buffy exclaimed when the blond vampire pulled her up against him.

"Think of this as practice, Slayer," Spike told her. Then he began to rock their hips back and forth erotically, keeping her molded to him as the song filtered down into the store.

Dead I am the one, exterminating son
Slipping thought the trees, strangling the breeze

"Um, Spike, this isn't a dance song," Buffy tried to protest.

Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry
As they slowly turn, conquering the worm

"Then we won't dance," Spike replied with a shrug, not letting her go. He gave her a wicked grin. "Think of this as sex with clothes on."

Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my Dragula
Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my Dragula

Buffy couldn't believe he said that. She couldn't believe that she was aroused by it. She couldn't believe she was still rocking against him as the song continued to play.

Dead I am the pool, spreading from the fool
Weak and want you need, nowhere as you bleed

Of course, Spike would know the words and would have to lean forward so he was practically growling them in Buffy's ear. She was going to melt into a puddle on the floor any moment. Either that, or she was going to do something extremely arrest-worthy. It was still up in the air.

Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat
Tender is the fur, dying as you purr

"Oh god," Buffy breathed, her knees going weak as Spike began to purr. He slid his hand up her back until it was between her shoulder blades, his other one was wrapped tightly around her waist. He brushed her hair off of her neck with his nose, then nuzzled the long column as he continued to purr erotically. "Oh god."

Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my Dragula
Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my Dragula

She no longer had any logical thoughts in her mind. All she knew was that the man dancing so wickedly with her was turning her into a quivering mess. Her eyes fell shut and her neck tilted slightly, giving him more access. His purr became abruptly louder for an instant, then fell back into its soft, teasing noise.

Dead I am the life, dig into the skin
Knuckle crack the bone, twenty-one to win

"Hey, you two, enough of that."

Buffy's eyes shot open and she saw the store manager glaring at them with his arms folded over his chest. She slapped Spike on his shoulder and he raised his head from her neck. "Stop," she hissed. "We're going to get kicked out."

"Sounds like fun," Spike told her in a low, husky voice. His mouth curled up in a predatory smile.

Dead I am the dog, hound of hell you cry
Devil on your back, I can never die

"If you two aren't going to buy something, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the manager said.

Spike sighed dramatically and released Buffy. He turned and showed the man the CD on his wrist. "I'm going to get this, you-" Buffy cleared her throat loudly. "-Sir."

"Then I suggest you do it now," the manager stated.

Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my Dragula
Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my Dragula

Buffy nodded. "Yes. We'll buy it now. Right, Spike?"

"Er, right," Spike agreed. Buffy took his arm and led him towards the registers. When they got there, he plunked the CD on the counter and dug several crumpled bills out of his pocket. While he waited to be rung up, he tapped his fingers on the counter.

Buffy studied him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't believe he had just practically mated with her standing in the middle of the music store -- and she was all but screaming "fuck me, baby!" If the manager hadn't interrupted them, she may have done just that.

She had no clue what possessed her to come into the place to begin with. She still had to pick up the dress she had on lay-a-way down the hall for the dance. She glanced at her watch, then swore. "Damn. Spike, I have to go."

"Why?" Spike asked, his voice sounding very childish.

"I have to get my dress before the store closes," Buffy answered. Plus, she really needed to get away from him before she suggested they find some remote corner and pick up where they were interrupted. "I'll see you tomorrow night, ok?"

She rushed out of the store without waiting for an answer.

Part Six

Spike examined the window in front of him, a thoughtful frown on his face. After a moment's contemplation, he dug out a credit card he'd stolen long ago, but only used for this sort of activity.

"Billy, tell me you aren't going to break into the Slayer's room," Nia said.

"I'm not going to break into the Slayer's room," Spike said, sliding the hard plastic up under the window.

"Now, why do I think you're lying through your fangs?" Nia asked.

The lock slowly slid over and Spike grinned. Dropping the card back into the depths of his duster pocket, he pushed open the first floor window. He gestured dramatically inside. "Women and ghosts first."

"I should hurt you for this," Nia grumbled as the vampire climbed through the window. She disappeared and reappeared sitting on Willow's bed. "Breaking and entering is not on the good behavior charts."

"So hurt me," Spike said with a shrug. "It's not going to stop me from doing this."

With a grin still plastered on his face, he pulled his Rob Zombie CD out of his pocket and walked over to the stereo. He put the CD in the player and set it for continuous repeat on track three, then adjusted the volume so it was loud enough to be heard, but not to disturb the neighbors. He was a courteous vampire.

"You're a nut," Nia muttered.

"'Dead I am the one, exterminating son,'" Spike began to sing as he set the case on top of the stereo. He ran his hand across Buffy's comforter as he walked over to her desk. He grabbed a notebook off the shelf bolted to the wall and dropped it on the middle of the desk, then drummed on it with his hands. "'Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry...'"

Pulling out the chair, he took a seat and opened the middle desk drawer in search of a pen. He found a clear box of colored paperclips and took it out. Opening the box, he began to hook the different colored clips together in a chain for all of two minutes before he got bored. He draped it around his neck, closed the box and stuck it back in the drawer, then removed a pen.

He tapped on the edge of the desk with a pen and his finger like drumsticks before he shut the drawer and opened the notebook. "Blank page, blank page, blank page," he said as he turned each filled notebook page, searching for an empty one. His leg bounced rapidly under the desk. "Blank page, blank page, bla-...well, what do we have here?"

"Hopefully her plan to stake your hyper-active hide," Nia commented.

Spike didn't pay any attention to Nia, he was too busy examining the page in front of him. He reached over and turned on the desk lamp for better lighting than just that coming through the open window. "Now, this is quite interesting," he murmured, his ego swelling as he looked at the sketches. Sketches of him, according to the little captions under each one. Lots of them. In various poses. Was that one of him laying naked on his bed, asleep?

"Cor, it is," he realized, leaning forward to look closer at the picture. The caption read: "It's not fair." He wondered what was not fair and if he really looked like that when he was sleeping. If so, it was no wonder the ladies tended to stare at him like a piece of chocolate. He was damn good looking.

Nia snorted. "Not."

"Sod off," Spike told her, continuing his perusal. He saw a little heart in the corner of the page and sat back abruptly, surprised. He couldn't have seen what he thought he'd seen.

"What did you see?" Nia asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly, his eyes heading for that little heart again. It was still there. It hadn't been his imagination. It created a strange, mushy feeling inside of him that he wasn't sure if he liked or not. It felt like any second he was going to heave.

He sat, unmoving, staring at the little heart for several minutes -- an amazing feat for his currently hyper-active self. The song repeated itself again and his mind slipped back to earlier when he'd been playing with the Slayer. She had smelled so very good, felt even better pressed flush against him, and he wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor and make love to her. He had started to purr to tease her, but when she tilted her neck purposely for him, his purr went from teasing to loving.

"Oh fuck," Spike swore, his eyes widening as it hit him. "Bloody fucking hell."

"What's wrong, Billy?" Nia asked.

"Stop calling me Billy," he said in a stunned voice. It couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true.

Or did he?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, leaning his elbows on the desk and dropping his head into his hands. One simple, joking action designed to make the Slayer flustered had an unforseen circumstance attached to it. It was almost reminiscent of how he got cursed.

Only he had killed Nia, not fallen in love with her.

"Bugger," Spike sighed resignedly. It was true. He was in love with the Slayer.

Now, what was he going to do about it?

As he uncapped the pen, a smile spread over his face. He turned to a fresh page in the notebook and began to write.

*****

Buffy inserted her key into her dorm room door and yawned tiredly. The dance had been fun; a nice, relaxing way to spend a Friday night, but she felt as though something were missing the entire time. It wasn't as if things had changed, Willow was still with Oz, Xander was the single girl-crazy fool and she was single, as well. They had laughed and danced and did the same things they'd done at the previous dances, but things seemed off.

Not bothering to worry about it, she opened her door with the intent of going straight to bed. Instead, she froze in the doorway as music drifted to her from her stereo.

Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat
Tender is the fur, dying as you purr

It would have to be that verse. Her knees turned to liquid as she was immediately transported back several hours to the music store. She grabbed the doorframe and steadied herself before she swooned.

"Get it together, Buffy," she told herself firmly. Straightening, she flipped on the light, entered her dorm room and closed the door behind her. Willow was staying with Oz that night, so she would have the room to herself. She set her purse and keys on the small dresser, then moved to the stereo on a stack of crates beside it. The Rob Zombie CD case was sitting on top of it and she picked it up, unable to help the quirk of her lips.

"Spike, you are...well, I no longer know what you are, but whatever it is, you're it." She put the case down and pressed stop on the player. She knew she should be mad that he had been in her room, but instead she felt pleased that he would go through all the trouble to do something like this -- even if it was a little on the silly side. Unless he was sending her a message.

That thought caused her knees to weaken again. Could he want her like she wanted him in the store? Did she want him to want her like that? "No, I do not," she stated.

Her body called her a liar and her mind wasn't too far behind.

With a frustrated sigh, she turned off the stereo and kicked off her shoes. She turned to grab her pyjamas off the bed and stopped when she saw a notebook sitting in the center of it, surrounded by a paperclip chain. Rounding the side of the bed, she smirked at the paperclips and picked the open notebook up.

The first thing she noticed was Spike's handwriting. It was a combination of printing and cursive, angled the wrong way because he was left-handed. She rolled her eyes when she saw he had addressed it 'Slayer' instead of her name. She wondered if he would ever call her Buffy. Maybe he would while they were in the crux of orgasm...

Buffy violently pushed that thought away with a blush staining her cheeks. She turned her attention to reading the note, rather than fantasizing about the writer.

Slayer~
"It has to be admitted that we English have sex on the brain, which is a very unsatisfactory place to have it."

Tomorrow, one o'clock, at the mansion. A much better place, don't you agree?

Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, her breath catching in her throat. That was all the note read, but it said so much more. Spike did want her as much as she wanted him. She didn't know whether to rejoice or run.

And she only had until tomorrow at one to decide.

*****

"My headstone is going to read: 'Here lies the Slayer, she died either fighting vampires or sleeping with them,'" Buffy muttered, as she approached the mansion's front door. She smoothed down her skirt in a nervous gesture, then did the same with her upswept hair. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

She had spent the rest of the night and most of the morning tossing and turning in bed. What sleep she did get was filled with dreams so hot, she woke up panting and sweating. By eleven, she decided to forget thinking and go with what her body wanted her to do -- give herself to Spike. She'd spent the rest of the time getting ready for zero hour.

Her dorm room looked like a disaster area in her attempts to find something to wear that was sexy and easy to remove, but not slutty. She finally settled on a simple black knee-length skirt and a man's Oxford dress shirt with the top three buttons left open. Underneath she was wearing a white, lace bra that gave her more cleavage than she normally had and matching panties. On her feet were thin-strapped, black heels.

Buffy put her hand on the doorknob and sent a silent thought of apology to Giles, who was going to maxi-wig when news of her liaison with another member of the undead reached his ears. Then she opened the door and went inside.

A surprise met her right at the door. Lit candles made a path in the curtained mansion from the front door towards the hallway. Flower petals were scattered along the same path, the scent of jasmine and roses hitting her senses. After closing the door behind her, she followed the trail to the bedroom she knew belonged to Spike. Through the partially open door, she could hear soft music and she could see more candles. She pushed the door open further and saw Spike across the room, standing in the shadows, as he held the dark curtain back so he could look outside.

He must have heard her because he turned his head. A slow, seductive smile spread across his lips and he released the dark curtain. He swung back into place over the window, blocking out the daylight and allowing the only illumination to be the candles scattered throughout the bedroom. He moved with sure, steady steps towards her, his bare feet silent on the floor, the dark slacks he was wearing molding to his legs with each step.

Buffy swallowed heavily as he stopped directly in front of her. He was wearing an open black button-down over and equally black t-shirt, a testament to his bad boy persona. With her thick, three-inch heels, she was almost the same height as him and she had no choice but to meet his gaze directly.

Spike's eyes were like twin pools of water reflecting a cloudless, bright blue sky. They glowed with intensity and barely suppressed passion. She found herself being drawn into them, her face moving closer to his on its own accord. She stopped three inches from her mouth being pressed to his and unconsciously licked her lips.

Then the intensity in his eyes was replaced by the intensity of his kiss. She absently heard the door close behind her before she felt his arms move around her. His hands splayed against her lower back and the back of her head, holding her as his mouth melted together with hers. His tongue lightly brushed her lips before it dipped inside to sweep against hers.

Sensations bombarded her. Everything became clearer and at the same time more fuzzy. She could hear the whisper of his shirt brushing against hers, but the music faded away. The scent of the candles disappeared under the purely male scent of the man holding her. Where he touched her, her skin felt like it was on fire despite the layer of material between his hands and her body.

His kisses consumed her. She had no coherent thought in her mind, she could only feel the coolness of his lips, their firmness, the possessiveness of them as they claimed hers. His tongue demanded and coaxed and asked all at the same time, causing her to cling to him as her body went weak with desire. Her pulse was racing beneath her skin, her breathing was erratic, her muscles were quivering with the spiral of tension that was building within her.

Spike's hand slid down from her lower back over the curve of her buttock and he pulled her closer to him. She could feel the hard length of his erection beneath his pants and she moved her hips in a small circle, rubbing herself against him. He tore his mouth away from hers and inhaled sharply, the sound music to her ears. She opened her eyes to meet his and she visibly shook from the hunger she saw in his gaze.

Somehow, she ended up on the bed with him, their clothing a pile on the floor, the candlelight highlighting their naked bodies. His hands caressed her, his lips and tongue tasted her, his cool length pressed against her. Her body hummed under his ministrations and when he nudged her legs apart, she accepted him without hesitation, opening herself for his loving.

Their eyes met and held as he thrust into her for the first time. She gasped at the sensation of his shaft stretching her, filling her. He growled deep in his chest, the sound rolling across the room like thunder. Then his mouth was upon hers again, his tongue plunging between her lips, and he began to move.

She felt like she was flying and fighting and exploding and dying. Her legs were hooked over his and he was pressed almost flush against her, his muscular forearms on either side of her. Her arms were around his back, her fingers rubbing along his skin, trembling with every stroke that brought her closer to the edge.

He shifted and she felt his hand move between them and then his fingers touching her most sensitive spot. She ripped her mouth away from his with a harsh gasp as the world dropped out under her and she fell into an orgasm so intense it burned her from the inside out. Her body shuddered and quaked and trembled under him as she drowned in a sea of colors and feelings.

She barely heard his guttural snarl or felt his body tense over her or his shaft pulsing deep inside of her as he climaxed. She couldn't catch her breath or open her eyes or even move. If the world was on fire, she'd have no choice but to let it burn.

The first sensations she felt afterwards were cool, soft kisses on her forehead, on both of her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. Next, her heart slowed enough for her to pick up quiet purring and then she felt the vibrations from his chest pressed against hers. Finally, she was able to open her eyes to find that heaven looked a lot like Spike's bedroom.

Spike's mouth continued placing kisses along her jawline, the purring growing louder the closer he got to her ear. He kissed the tender spot right behind the lobe and his purr stopped only to emit words that were spoken so softly, if his mouth hadn't been at her ear, she never would have heard them. "I love you, Buffy."

In her heart, she knew immediately she had no choice but to love him, too.

Her hand moved up to brush the back of his hair and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder before telling him so. His purring stopped, the room falling into silence save for the soft music she'd forgotten was playing, and he raised his head. Startled blue eyes met her hazel ones and he stared as if he were searching for the truth to her words.

Then a smile brighter than any sun she'd ever seen appeared and she suddenly found herself on top of one trembling vampire, still intimately connected, as he held her tightly to him. When their lips met again, it was with a tenderness that can only be born from love.

Continues...

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