The road sign made a satisfying crashing noise as it died, yet again, beneath the De Soto’s wheels. A vicious smile twisted Spike’s lips. He was back to Sunnydale, but this time it would be different. This time, he wouldn’t be confronting the Slayer head on, or drinking himself into a stupor. No kidnapping, no spells, no complicated plans that never ended well, no bargains, no humiliating defeat at the hands of a small blonde. No Drusilla either, whether at his side or as a shadow looming over him; they were done, and for good. It had taken him some time to drown the pain of that realization, but he was over her, now. He damn well was.

This time, his path was clear. He would keep a low profile and remain hidden while he looked for the Amara jewel. It had been Drusilla’s unwitting parting gift to him. Ramblings that anyone else would have ignored had caught his attention, and after double-checking on his own what he thought she had meant, Sunnydale had appeared as a very good candidate for the charmed bauble. Soon, he would have it, and the world would be his. And then, the first thing on his agenda would be to kill the Slayer. Simple, elegant, it was a great plan and he was determined to see it through. He had killed two Slayers already, this one was long overdue for her comeuppance.

His best intentions, however, did not insure a better end than his past visits to the cursed town, as he soon discovered.

It was only two nights after his arrival. He had gone out early for a quick feed before returning to his digging. He had half a mind to find someone to help with the dirty work. It would go faster, certainly, if he didn’t have to do all of it by himself. And if he chose well enough, his companion might also help distract him when he wasn’t digging.

She came out of nowhere. One second, the cemetery was as still and empty as any respectable graveyard ought to be, and the next, she was sitting on the raised pedestal of a statue, looking as though she had been waiting for him. Spike threw a disgruntled look at the crypt, just a few yards behind her, that he had claimed as his own. He wouldn’t believe she was here, so close to his lair, purely by accident.

“I tried,” he muttered to no one in particular, taking the night and the graves around him as witnesses. “She’s the one who fucked everything up this time.”

A brief flash of puzzlement seemed to cross her features as she stood and took a few steps toward him, hands pushed deep in the pockets of her short jacket.

“I did what, now?”

“What you always do. Ruin everything.”

For a short moment he thought—no, it had to be a trick of the light. She had no reason to be hurt by his words.

Rolling his shoulders to loosen up the tension in them, Spike ostentatiously looked around her.

“All alone, I see. No giant brooder by your side. No friends either. That’s a nice change, just you and me.”

When he returned his gaze to her, the moping face he expected wasn’t there; instead, she was grinning. He was beginning to wonder how much she had changed while he had been gone.

“A lot has changed, since we last met,” she echoed his thoughts. “But I’m still me. And I hope you’re still you.”

What was that supposed to mean?

She finally pulled her hands out of her pockets, and the stake Spike expected didn’t materialize. He watched her clasp her fingers together and stretch her arms high above her head—he struck just as she was beginning to lower them again.

The blow to her face seemed to catch her by surprise, and she quickly retreated out of his reach again. She wiped the blood trickling from her nose with the back of her hand, and seemed almost shocked when she looked up at Spike again.

“I think I had forgotten how hard you hit.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Might be.”

When he attacked again, she was ready and parried all his blows, although not once did she try to hit back. It was beginning to look as though she were indulging him, and Spike didn’t like the feeling in the slightest. When he killed her, he wanted it to happen because he was simply better than she was, not because she had let him.

“Will you fight, you bloody woman!”

His outburst seemed to amuse her, and she was grinning again when she started circling him. Spike moved along with her, wondering if she’d finally attack.

“You’re all alone too,” she flung his words back at him. “Where’s Drusilla?”

Spike couldn’t help snarling at that. When he lunged at her, she easily slipped out of the way.

“From what I heard, things aren’t too bright between you two. I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. At least now you’re free to fall again, and this time without the guilt.”

With his years of experience at deciphering senseless babble, Spike ought to have understood what she was saying; and still, none of it was making sense. It didn’t help that she was pressing on a still sore wound.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he lashed out. “And what game are you playing here? I thought we were fighting.”

“I’m playing the game you taught me,” she shot back. “And as for fighting…”

Her first blow caught him by surprise, much as he had surprised her only a few minutes earlier.

“Do you like poetry?”

The unexpected question made him falter once more, and this time he stumbled back when she made contact with his middle. Who had told her… It had to be Angel. Why in hell would he rattle on about old stories?

“I used not to,” she continued when he didn’t answer, never ceasing to attack and trade blows with him. “I didn’t understand much about it. And then someone made me read Neruda. Opened my eyes and made me understand.”

Suddenly, she seemed to flip on a switch. Where they had been well matched until now, blocking each other for the most part, she took the advantage, and pushed on.

“I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you.
From waiting to not waiting for you.”

It took Spike a second to realize she was reciting a poem. Strange choice of words to use now, when she was taking over and making him retreat, step by step.

“My heart moves from cold to fire.”

He tried to push back at her, unconsciously slipping into his demon guise as he summoned all the strength and speed he had in him. It worked for a few seconds, then she took over again. She never stopped reciting.

“I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.”

She had pushed at him and maneuvered him so well that now she had him cornered, his back to the wall of a crypt. All she needed to do was pull out a stake, and with a few more moves and a little luck, it would be over. Yet, she produced no stake. Instead, she stood still, and her voice dropped to a murmur, almost breaking down at one point.

“In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you.”

Spike’s eyes were wide as he watched her move closer still, until they were standing toe to toe and she was leaning toward him. The words she was saying made no sense, no sense whatsoever, and at the same time part of him wished they had. It had been a long, very long time since someone had said these words to him and meant them.

“Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.”

Her last words were no more than a whisper, barely a caress before she laid her lips upon his. Spike found himself pulled into the softness of the chaste kiss, and his eyes closed for a second before he realized what was happening. He jerked back, banging his head on the wall behind him, startled and confused. He slipped back into his human features without being aware of it.

“What in hell…” he began, but didn’t even know how to finish. The Slayer remained where she stood, so close he could feel the heat of her entire body alongside his even though they weren’t touching; she was smiling. It was a strange smile, a little sad, a little hopeful.

“You’ll catch on,” she said. “I can wait a bit longer until you do. Now that you’re here, I have all the time in the world.”

Spike still didn’t understand what she was rambling about and it annoyed him greatly – but not as much as the sudden and unwanted thought that she had a beautiful smile.