I've been bad at answering comments, and i apologize. Real life is kicking my rear-end and when it comes down to the precious time i can spend writing, the choice between answering emails and writing a new chapter is easy to make. Please do believe that i read and appreciate every comment. I am glad that people are enjoying this story as much as i enjoy writing it. I can only hope you like it 'til the end.

“You have friends, there.”

Buffy tried her best to ignore Cordelia’s whisper and focus on whatever their teacher was saying about poetry. Giles had seemed disappointed by her last English grade, and even though she shouldn’t have cared about a slight frown, she did. She would do better on her next assignment. And doing better meant paying attention in class, even if she was tired by a long patrol, confused by yet another sighting of Spike staking a vampire, and interested despite her best efforts in what Cordelia was saying.

“Real friends. Not like here where people stare at you because you look tough and because things have been getting better since you arrived in Sunnydale.”

She let out a little snort at that, and Cordelia became silent when the teacher turned a reproving gaze on them.

Buffy had noticed the looks she attracted in the halls and at the cafeteria, as well as the whispers that seemed to stop whenever she got close. With as few students as Sunnydale High counted, everyone seemed to know her, and there were rumors going around.

The most ridiculous one she had heard claimed that she wasn’t the librarian’s niece bur rather his secret lover. She had caught the idiot who had been spreading that one, and had convinced him to stop with a nice little chat during which she had pressed his six-foot frame against a locker one-handed. Another recurring one hit much closer to the truth and made her a recipient of mutant powers or the latest product of the US military. She didn’t try to stop that one; another demonstration of force would have confirmed rather than contradicted it.

“You even have a boyfriend,” Cordelia continued, still whispering, once the teacher returned her attention to what she was writing on the board. “Well, I’m not sure if he’s still your boyfriend, you two have a pretty complicated story. I mean, a vamp and a vampire Slayer falling in love and—”

For the first time since class had started, Buffy looked at Cordelia, her eyes sharp as daggers.

“What did you say?” she hissed.

Cordelia satisfied smirk was completely insufferable. “It’s a long story,” she whispered back. “I’ll tell you at lunch.”

And with that, she proceeded to ignore Buffy’s dark looks and turned her attention to the lecture. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the class and the beginning of their lunch period, Buffy could have strangled her.

“You’re saying in your world I’m in love with a vampire?” she asked at they left the room together, her voice not quite low enough if she was to judge by a couple of startled students looking their way. She glared at them and they hurried away. “You think I’m going to believe that kind of nonsense?”

“Believe what you want,” Cordelia shrugged. “I know what I’ve seen. Star crossed lovers and all that, he lost his soul and went to hell because of you and when he came back you were both ready to risk it all, all over again. That’s how much you love him. And yes, he is a vampire.”

Buffy was silent until they had reached their lockers and put their things away. What Cordelia was saying was incredible—impossible—and yet, the girl seemed to know a lot about Buffy, about what she did, about Giles, even. Could she be telling the truth about this? Could there possibly be another reality in which Buffy had feelings for a vamp?

A sudden thought sent a bead of cold sweat sliding down her back.

“It’s…it’s not Spike, is it?” she asked, very quiet now, goose bumps rising on her upper arms.

Cordelia looked at her with wide, incredulous eyes. “Spike?” she practically shrieked. “Of course not! Eww. That would be so sick.”

She rambled on about a guy named Angel as they went down the lunch line together, but even though the name was vaguely familiar for some reason, Buffy wasn’t really paying attention. Some part of her had been sure Cordelia was talking about Spike, and she couldn’t understand why.

“Did I kill him?” she asked, abruptly cutting off Cordelia, after they had sat down.

Cordelia frowned. “Angel?”

“Spike. Did I kill Spike in your world?”

“No. You teamed up with him at some point and then he left town with his skanky girlfriend. I heard she dumped him. But that’s not—”

“Drusilla is alive?” Buffy interrupted again. “I didn’t kill her either?”

The disappointment when Cordelia confirmed it was greater than what Buffy would have expected, and that confused her even more. She should have been disappointed that none of her incarnations seemed to be able to kill Spike, not worried about whether his girlfriend was alive or dead in some other dimension. It made her think back again on the intensity with which Spike had battled her after she had dusted Drusilla in Cleveland, and how sure she had been that he would kill her in the end. It made her wonder, for the umpteenth time, why he hadn’t. Why he helped her, rather than oppose her; he had never given any reason to his actions.

“So, will you?” Cordelia asked hopefully, pulling Buffy out of her thoughts.

“Will I what?” she replied distractedly.

“Talk to Giles. Ask him to help me find the demon that changed everything. There’s got to be a way to change it back!”

Standing, Buffy picked up her tray and shook her head. “You’ve heard him. It’s too dangerous. You shouldn’t have been messing with alternate dimensions in the first place.”

She walked away, leaving Cordelia behind. She had a few minutes before her next class, and she wanted to be by herself and think. A lot had happened since she had come to Sunnydale and Spike had followed her there, and there were too many things relating to him that she didn’t understand. Maybe it was time to stop wondering and simply ask.

Staring at the Slayer, Spike’s mind worked quickly to come up with an acceptable answer to her questions. She had surprised by coming to him tonight instead of remaining at some distance as she always did, and while he had been initially glad to see that his plan was working, things weren’t going as they should have. He had suspected she would ask about his motivation, sooner or later, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

It was too soon. She wasn’t ready yet to fall in bed with him, and even if she did it wouldn’t last long. He had to play this one really carefully, and be patient until…

All thoughts of patience disappeared with a silent roar of his demon when she tilted her head just enough to expose the marks on her throat more clearly.

Sod being patient.

Controlling himself, he sat down on a tombstone, just a few feet across from where she was leaning against a marble monument as tall as she was.

“What do you want to know most?” he asked, keeping his eyes on her as he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. “Why I didn’t kill you or why I’m helping you?”

He had time to take two slow drags before she answered.

“Why you didn’t kill me.”

He nodded once, and said it as matter of fact as possible: “I realized I want to fuck you more than I wanted to see you dead.”

For several excruciatingly long seconds, she remained silent and extremely still, to the point that Spike wondered whether she had heard him.

“Very funny,” she said at last, her voice cracking with ice. “The real reason now?”

He stood and ground his half finished cigarette beneath his heel before slowly approaching her.

“That’s the real reason. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to do a Slayer, and you…” he smiled lasciviously. “Well, come on. I know that every time we fought, every single time, your panties were dripping seconds after we started. It makes you hot when we fight. It makes you hot because it’s me. And I—”

“You loved Drusilla,” she cut in harshly, pushing away from the monument to stand with her arms crossed. “Remember Drusilla? That girl of yours that I had to wash out of my clothes for days after dusting her?”

It hurt. Of course it did, and that was what she wanted. But Spike had been battling Dru in his dreams for weeks now. There was nothing the Slayer could say that he hadn’t heard already from his Princess. And what she wasn’t saying – or denying – was more interesting anyway.

“So, you admit it, then?” he drawled, taking one more step toward her and smirking when she hesitated then stepped back. “You’re hot for me.”

She snorted, but kept retreating when he continued to advance on her. One more step and the monument would stop her from fleeing any further. “I so am not. And Drusilla—”

She stopped as though realizing she was stuck between the marble and him, redefining the meaning of being caught between a rock and a hard place.

“I’ll always love her,” he said, his voice a murmur now that he was so close he could practically feel her heartbeat. “And as much as it hurts, that doesn’t mean I’ll never love anyone else.” He realized at her slow blink what he had just said; he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, so he continued quickly. “And that doesn’t mean I can’t shag anyone else, either.”

He could see that the Slayer was struggling to find something to say. But her clever retorts seemed to be failing her, and all she did was stare at him, too shocked to even move. That worked just fine for Spike, and he slowly leaned in toward her lips, resting his hands on each side of her against the marble.

“Don’t,” she said weakly.

Spike merely grinned.

Her lips were warm, just a little chapped, and they parted easily when Spike pushed his tongue in. He wanted to press his body against her – craved to feel her heat once more – but he forced himself to keep things slow. Just mouth against mouth, his tongue slowly caressing hers, waiting, waiting…

There.

She made the quietest sound in the back of her throat, half sob, half moan, and finally started returning the kiss. Tentative strokes of her tongue against his, against his lips, and the barest pressure forward. He had her. She was as good as in his bed, and it wouldn’t be long—

And then she was gone.

She broke the kiss and slipped away so fast that she was already a few yards away when Spike turned toward her. Frustrated, he called after her, but she didn’t look back and instead walked faster. Spike sighed and watched her go. Going after her now wouldn’t have helped, or at least he didn’t think it would have. He had pushed as far as she had been willing to let herself be pushed; anything more and she might have snapped. Better that it ended like this than with her shoving a stake into his chest.

Hell, she had kissed him back. That was much better than he would have thought he’d get so soon. He was going to have himself a nice long wank, and think of all the places that pretty mouth of hers would go, once he had his way.


Spike kissed me.

Buffy crossed half the town with that single thought looping through her mind. She just couldn’t comprehend why he would – or how he would dare. He said he wanted to fuck her, and she could believe that. It explained why he had been trying to gain her trust. But that kiss hadn’t been about fucking. Or if it had, Spike was a better actor than she gave him credit for.

Then again, it wasn’t as though she had enough experience with kissing to compare this to anything. Being a Slayer had put an end to her social life, first with the asylum and then the running away. She didn’t look at boys – men – that way. She didn’t have time for it. And she’d never have expected that Spike would…

Spike kissed me.

The front door creaked when she opened it, and she winced. She had hoped to be able to escape Giles’ notice, but there he was, walking out of the bedroom he had converted into an office, a book in his hands and a stray pen mark on his cheek.

“Buffy. How was patrol?”

Spike kissed me.

“OK. Same old.”

She slipped by him on his way to her own room, tensing as though he would be able to tell simply by looking at her what had happened. He didn’t say anything however, and she let out a quiet sigh once she had safely closed the door behind her. Leaving the lights off, she let herself slide down the door to sit on the floor against it. She traced her lips with a finger, barely realizing she was trembling, and tried to wrap her mind around that incomprehensible notion.

Spike kissed me. And I let him.