0 comments/ 17958 views/ 0 favorites Fool For Love By: BlissfulZimZum666 All was quiet in a mist-shrouded graveyard. Suddenly, the peace was shattered as Buffy pounded a vampire, dressed like a Van Halen reject, to the ground. "You know, it's probably none of my business but I just gotta ask..." Buffy said. The vampire lunged at her and she backhanded it. "You smell this bad when you were alive?" She kicked the vampire into a headstone. "'Cause if it's a post-mortem thing, then boy, is my face red..." She flipped him over the headstone and whipped out a stake. "But just so you know, the fast-growing field of personal grooming has come a long way since you became a vampire." Buffy somersaulted over the headstone, stake raised and ready to strike. But the vampire seized her arm as she landed, span her around and plunged the stake into Buffy's abdomen. Her eyes went wide with shock and pain as she looked down at the stake protruding from her body. Buffy gripped the shaft the stake and, with a gasp of pain, pulled it out. Her sweater was soaked with her blood. For the first time in a long time, Buffy felt fear. She turned and fled, trying to escape the vampire. The hunter had become the hunted. Her wound slowed her, however, and she cast terrified glances over her shoulder. Suddenly, the vampire leapt in front of her and she stopped with a gasp, looking around desperately for an escape route. "You're going? But you were having so much fun a minute ago!" the vampire said. Buffy brought the stake up but the creature easily knocked it from her grasp and tossed her against a nearby crypt. She doubled over in pain as the vampire picked up her stake and approached with a predatory grin. Buffy was helpless. She realized that this is the Moment she'd been dreading but always knew would come. She was going to die. As the vampire raised the stake for the killing blow, he was suddenly tackled to the ground by Michael. He rained blows down on the vampire and took out one of his swords but the vampire knocked it from his hand before he can use it and took off across the graveyard. Michael was about to give chase when he noticed Buffy's obvious distress and rushed to her aid. "Buffy! What happened?" Michael asked. She held up her bloody hands, and then collapsed in arms, unconscious. The following day Michael applied first aid and dressing Buffy's wound. "I can't believe I passed out. Do you think I'm a total wuss now?" Buffy asked. "Oh, yeah. I like a girl who can play a few hard sets of tennis with a major stab wound." Michael told her. "You said it wasn't that bad." "I said I've seen worse. There's a difference." "Well, at least no major organs got kebabed." "I still think you need to see a real doctor." "That would put me in a real hospital, which would get my real Mom real freaked out. I can't do it. Don't worry. Accelerated healing powers come with the Slayer package. And the boyfriend who comes complete with combat medical knowledge? That's just a Buffy Summers bonus." Michael kissed her. "So tell me about the bad guy - or guys. What do you think they were?" Michael asked. "Vampire." "How many?" "One." Michael was surprised. "So... what? He was like a super-vampire or something?" "No, he was the regular kind. He just beat me." "That ever happen before?" "I'm in the best physical shape of my life. I mean; if you're asking how it happened, I don't..." Suddenly the door to Buffy's room flew open and Dawn ran in. "Dawn!" Buffy said annoyed. "Sorry to interrupt the sex-capades. I just wanted to tell you that Mom's coming." Dawn told them. Michael hid the bandages and tape just as Joyce entered the room. "Hi, Michael." Joyce said. "Hey, Joyce. How're you feeling?" Michael asked. "I'm fine, bordering on chipper and tomorrow planning on being obnoxious." Smiling, Michael said, "Glad to hear it." "Buffy, when you have a minute I'd like to go over the grocery list for next week." "You got it." Buffy said. "Are you disinfecting something?" Joyce asked noticing the bottle of pure alcohol. "Huh? Oh, uh..." Buffy tried to think of an answer. "I was thirsty," Michael joked. "It's mine! Some nail polish experiments are doomed before they even begin." Dawn said. "But you keep pushing the envelope, honey." Joyce smiled and left, closing the bedroom door behind her. Smiling at Buffy, Dawn said, "Did I just pull a Slayer-related Mom cover-up thing? Come on, who's the man?" "You are." Buffy said. "A very short, annoying man." Stung, Dawn's smile faded. "If I show you something, you promise you won't tell?" Buffy asked Dawn. Dawn crossed her heart and Buffy lifted her shirt to reveal the bandaged stab wound. Dawn was awed. "Oh, cool!" Dawn said, then off Buffy's look, "I mean, gross!" "And Mom cannot know. Okay? You'll help me with the household stuff?" "Oh, sure. I save your butt and you dump all your chores on me." Again off Buffy's look, "I got it. You're covered. We're good. Just lucky it's not bikini season." Buffy smiled and stroked Dawn's hair. "So Dawn takes household duty. Kaz and I'll take tonight's patrol." Michael said. "Just you two?" Buffy asked. "Just us two." "Do me a favour? Will you take the gang along with?" "Okay. I will patrol with the group tonight." "When do I get to patrol?" Dawn asked. "Not until you're... never." That evening Kaz, Michael, Willow, Xander and Anya went patrolling. Michael and Kaz moved stealthily among the headstones, ducking from shadow to shadow. Michael paused behind a large marble slab and raised his arm; fist closed, and pumped it up and down twice before moving further into the cemetery. Willow, Anya and Xander followed about twenty yards behind them, munching potato chips and making no effort to conceal themselves. "What's with the hand move? Does that like mean something?" Xander asked Willow. "It's code. I think it breaks down to 'choo-choo.' " Willow replied. Willow mimicked pulling a train whistle. "It means to follow them. That, or wait here for them." Anya said. They watched Michael and Kaz's covert movements for a moment, then Willow turned to Xander. "Ask." Willow said to Xander. "Hey, Michael! What's the..." Xander made the hand gesture "all about?" he yelled. "It means yell real loud so the vampires who don't know we're coming will have a sporting chance." Michael yelled back, exasperated. "Why the Hell are we being stealthy anyway?" Kaz asked. "They're more vulnerable than us." Michael said to Kaz. "See, now he's all mean and sarcastic." Xander said to Willow. "That's because you were doing all the yelling, Mr. Stealthy-Pants." Willow retorted. "It's their fault." Anya shouted to Michael. "Guys, I'm thinking if we split up, we could cover more ground. Tell you what? I'll take the cemeteries, you guys get the Bronze." Michael called. "Are we not being covert enough?" Anya asked. "We're sorry!" Xander said. "Sorry." Willow added. "We'll be sneakier. Promise." Said Xander. Xander munched loudly on a handful of chips. "Okay. Just ditch the chips and watch our backs." Michael said. "Done." Willow said. Willow reached into the bag and grabbed a handful of chips herself before setting the bag down. Michael and Kaz moved off into the cemetery again. To Anya, Xander said, "You know what he's like? He's like a cat. You know, a big jungle cat. How come I'm not like that? It's just so cool." "I think you're cool." Willow said to Xander while munching her potato chips. In the Magic Box the reading table is piled high with books. Giles and Buffy were into some deep research. "Here's another one. Early 18th Century Slayer." Giles announced. Buffy closed her book with a sigh and set it on the stack. "Good. Let's hope she'll be more helpful than this last one." Buffy said. "Why? What does it say?" Giles asked. "Same as all the others. Slayer called... blah, blah... great protector... blah, blah... scary battles... blah, blah... oops! She's dead. Where are the details?" Buffy asked. "Details? Well, it says this Slayer forged her own weapons." Giles handed the book to Buffy. "Gotta love a gal with an anvil. But where are the details of the Slayer's last battle? You know, what made that fight special? Why did she lose?" "You didn't lose last night, Buffy. You just..." "Got really close. I slipped up, Giles. I've been training harder than ever and still I... And there's nothing in any of these books to help me understand why. I mean... look, I realize that every Slayer comes with an expiration mark on the package. But I want mine to be a long time from now. Like a Cheeto. If there were just a few good descriptions of what took out the other Slayers, maybe it would help me to understand my mistake, to keep it from happening again." "Yes, well, the problem is after a final battle, it's difficult to get any... well, the Slayer's not... she's rather..." "It's okay to use the D-word, Giles." "Dead. And hence not very forthcoming." "Why didn't the Watchers keep fuller accounts of it? The journals just stop." "Well, I suppose if they're anything like me, they just find the whole subject too..." "Unseemly? Damn. Love ya, but you Watchers are such prigs sometimes." "Painful... I was going to say." Buffy and Giles shared a meaningful look. "But you're right. Accounts of the final battles would be very helpful. But there's no one left to tell the tales." Buffy had a sudden revelation. "What?" Giles asked. Buffy shoved Spike against the wall and held him there. "Ow... Wait. Not ow. You feeling all right, Slayer? This stuff usually hurts." Buffy span him around to face her. "Don't even start, Spike." "What do you want?" "Slayers. You killed two of them." "I did." Spike said warily. "You're gonna show me how..." In the Bronze Spike and Buffy sat at a corner table. Spike greedily drained a mug of beer while Buffy stoically watched. "You know, there quite a few American beers that are highly underrated. This unfortunately is not one of them." Spike said. "Update, Spike. We're not here to discuss the fine choice of hops. It's about two Slayers: one in China during the Boxer Rebellion, one in New York." Buffy held up a wad of cash and snatched it back as Spike tried to grab for it. "Both got killed by you. Tell the tale, you get the cash." Buffy said. "Right. You want to learn all about how I bested the Slayers and you want to learn fast. Right, then. We fought. I won. The end. Pay up." "That's not what I..." "What did you want, eh? A quick demo? A blow-for-blow description you can map out and memorize? It's not about the moves, love. And since I agreed to your little proposition, we can do this my way. Wings." "What?" "Spicy buffalo wings. Order me up a plate. I'm feelin' peckish." Buffy sighs and turned to signal a waitress. "Excuse me..." The movement aggravated her injury and she winced in pain. "As I thought. Some nasty thing got a taste of you." Spike said. "Don't get all excited. I'm fine." Buffy told him. "Oh, right. Stuck in a dark corner with a creature you loathe, diggin' up past uglies, 'cos you're fine." "Just tell me what I want to know." "I told you. No one's narrating on an empty stomach here." Buffy shook her head in exasperation. "Were you born this big a pain in the ass?" "What can I tell you, baby? I've always been bad." Spike began to recount his story. In London 1880, a very different Spike was sitting and composing poetry off in the corner of a dinner party. Spike's hair was longish and unruly and he was dressed as a proper Gentleman, complete with tie and reading spectacles. He was awkward and bookish, with none of his confident swagger. "Luminous... oh, no, no, no. Irradiant's better." William said to himself. A waiter approached and held out a tray. "Care for an hors d'oeuvre, sir?" "Oh, quickly! I'm the very spirit of vexation. What's another word for 'gleaming?' It's a perfectly perfect word as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see. The waiter smiled patronizingly and moved off into the crowd. William's eyes were drawn to Cecily, a young woman, just entering the party. "Cecily..." William said. He turned back to his poem with renewed purpose and jotted down several more lines, then got up and moved through the crowd toward her. A group of young aristocrats, a woman and her two male companions, were gathered, discussing current events. "I mean to point out that it's something of a mystery and the police should keep an open mind." The woman said. One of the men turned to William as he passed by. The other man spoke to William, "Ah, William! Favour us with your opinion. What do you make of this rash of disappearances sweeping through our town? Animals or thieves?" "I prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. That's what the police are for." William said haughtily. He looked at Cecily, "I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty." The third aristocrat snatched the poem from Spike's hands. "I see. Well, don't withhold, William." He said. "Rescue us from a dreary topic." Said the first man. "Careful. The inks are still wet. Please, it's not finished." William said. "Don't be shy." The second man said, then read " 'My heart expands 'tis grown a bulge in it inspired by your beauty, effulgent," He laughed. "Effulgent?" Everyone laughed, mocking William. Uncomfortable, Cecily glanced at William and walked off. William shot the man who read out his poem a sour look, snatched back his poem, and followed her. "And that's actually one of his better compositions." The other man said. "Have you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry!" the woman said. "It suits him. I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff!" the second man said. William approached Cecily who was sitting on a sofa, away from the main party, and looking out the window. "Cecily?" Spike said. Cecily turned and sighed when she saw him. "Oh. Leave me alone." Cecily said. "Oh, they're vulgarians. They're not like you and I." William said talking about the other guests. "You and I? I'm going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?" William nodded. "Your poetry, it's... they're... not written about me, are they?" Cecily asked. "They're about how I feel." William replied. "Yes, but are they about me?" "Every syllable." "Oh, God!" "Oh, I know... it's sudden and... please, if they're no good, they're only words but... the feeling behind them... I love you, Cecily." "Please stop!" "I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me..." "I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me." Cecily stood and walked off, leaving William devastated and alone. William staggered down the street in tears, ripping up his poems as he went. He bumps into a passer-by and drops the pages. "Watch where you're going!" Spike gathered up the torn sheets and made his way toward a nearby alleyway. William was sitting on a bale of hay and finishing the job of destroying his poetry. He looked up at the sound of a woman's voice to find Drusilla standing serenely in the dark alley with him. "And I wonder... what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears?" Drusilla asked. "Nothing. I wish to be alone." "Oh, I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength, his vision, his glory... That and burning baby fish swimming all around your head." William backed away from her, nervous. "That's quite close enough. I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not be getting my purse, I tell you." "Don't need a purse." Drusilla said and smiled. Drusilla pointed to William's heart and head in succession. "Your wealth lies here... and here. In the spirit and... imagination. You walk in worlds the others can't begin to imagine." William was riveted by her insight into his character. "Oh, yes! I mean, no. I mean... mother's expecting me." William said. Drusilla opened the collar of his shirt. "I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. Something... effulgent." William was beside himself. Finally someone who understood him. "Effulgent." William said sotto. "Do you want it?" William had never wanted anything more. "Oh, yes!" He touched her chest, "God, yes." Drusilla looked down for a Moment as her face changed and her fangs descended. Spike reacted, more confused than afraid. She pulled back his shirt collar and buried her fangs in his neck. Spike cries out in pain but his cries quickly turned to moans of pleasure as Drusilla ended his human existence. Michael, Kaz, Willow, Anya and Xander were crouched behind headstones as the vampire who staked Buffy made his way through the graveyard. Michael saw him first. "Guys..." "What you got?" Xander asked. "That's him. Let's go." The vampire slipped into a crypt as the five of them cautiously approached. Boisterous laughter was coming from inside. Michael motioned for the others to stay put as he stole up to the crypt entrance and peered inside. Michael saw the vampire with four others and backed off, frustrated, he returned to the others. "It sounds like a party in there." Xander said. "Forget about crashing. There's too many of them. We'll come back at daybreak when they're asleep and we're better armed. It's okay. We can kill them just as dead in the morning." As they walked off Kaz spoke quietly to Michael. "Something's up, there's no reason why we can't take them out now, have you got something else planned?" Michael didn't answer; he just looked sideways at Kaz Buffy and Spike were shooting pool as Spike related his story. "So you traded up on the food chain. Then what?" Buffy asked. "No, please. Don't make it sound like something you'd flip past on the Discovery Channel. Becoming a vampire is a profound and powerful experience. I could feel this new strength coursing through me. Getting killed made me feel alive for the very first time. I was through living by society's rules. Decided to make a few of my own. Of course, in order to do that... I had to get myself a gang." Yorkshire, England 1880, in a coalmine, during the day. Angelus had Spike by the throat, choking him. "Perhaps it's my advancing years that makes me so forgetful, William. Remind me. Why don't we kill you?" Angelus asked. "... ike." Spike choked. "What's that?" Angelus asked. Angelus released Spike in disgust. "It's Spike now." Drusilla and Darla were standing to either side of Angelus. "You'd do well to remember it, mate." Spike was now talking in his usual way. "I'm not your mate. And when did you start talking like that?" Angelus asked. "Look, we barely got out of London alive because of you. Everywhere we go, it's the same story and now." Darla said to Spike. "You've got me and my women hiding in the luxury of a mineshaft, all because William the Bloody likes the attention. This is not a reputation we need." Angelus said. Spike took a deep swig from a wine bottle. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I sully our good name? We're vampires." "All the more reason to use a certain amount of finesse." Angelus said. "Bollocks! That stuff's for the frilly cuffs-and-collars crowd. I'll take a good brawl any day." Angelus approached Spike menacingly. "And every time you do, we become the hunted." "I think our boys are going to fight." Darla said in a singsong way to Drusilla. Fool For Love Drusilla clapped her hands giddily. "The King of Cups expects a picnic! But this is not his birthday." Darla looked at Drusilla like she was crazy. "Good point..." Darla said. "Yeah, you know what I prefer to being hunted? Getting caught." Spike said to Angelus. "That's a brilliant strategy really... pure cunning." "Sod off!" Spike laughed. "Come on. When was the last time you unleashed it? All out fight in a mob, back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs? Don't you ever get tired of fights you know you're going to win?" "No. A real kill. A good kill. It takes pure artistry. Without that, we're just animals." "Poofter!" Angelus shoved Spike, and the fight was on. Angelus snapped a metal rod in half, lifted Spike up and slammed him down on his back, raising the makeshift stake. Spike stopped it inches from his heart and smiled up at Angelus. "Now you're gettin' it!" Spike said. Angelus dropped the rod and backed off. "You can't keep this up forever. If I can't teach you, maybe someday an angry crowd will. That... or the Slayer." Angelus said. Spike sat up, suddenly interested. "What's a Slayer?" he asked. Buffy listened intently while Spike told his tale as they played pool. "After that, I was obsessed. I mean, to most vampires, the Slayer was the subject of cold sweat and frightened whispers. But I never hid. Hell, I sought her out. I mean, if you're looking for fun, there's death, there's glory and sod all else, right?" Spike shrugged. "I was young." "So how'd you kill her?" Spike moved behind Buffy. "Funny you should ask." Spike said. Spike hand whipped out and took her by the neck. She instinctually reacted, bringing the pool cue up as a weapon but Spike held her at bay. "Lesson the first: a Slayer must always reach for her weapon." Spike said. Spike's face shifted as the demon in him came forward. "I've already got mine." Spike shook his head and his face returned to normal. After a moment, he released Buffy's neck and took the pool cue from her. He walked over to the table and lined up a shot. "A good thing, too. Become a vampire; you've got nothing to fear. Nothing but one girl. That's you, honey. Back then... it was her." In China, 1900, in a Buddhist Temple at night Spike and the Slayer were fighting. She was a young, diminutive Chinese girl, adept at martial arts and swordsmanship. She kicked Spike back and whipped her sword at his head. He ducked, but not quite quick enough. The blade split the skin over his left eyebrow and blood ran down his face. Spike was enjoying himself immensely. Outside, in the Chinese village fires burned as panicked villagers fled in every direction, their belongings and farm animals in tow. Explosions could be heard not too far away. This was the Boxer Rebellion. Spike dodged another blow from the Slayer's sword. "Just like I pictured it. This good for you?" Spike asked. The Slayer charged him, sword whickering through the air in a deadly blur. Spike dodged every swing and viciously backhanded the girl, breaking her grip on the sword. The Slayer went hand-to-hand with Spike, landing several kicks and punches to his head, serving only to further enrage him. He beat her back, but began to lose ground again. The Slayer backed Spike up against a support column and pinned him there, her foot to his throat. She raised a stake, poised to strike the killing blow, when an explosion outside blasted part of the temple wall inward, the concussion breaking her hold on Spike. Spike went on the offensive, knocking the stake from her hand. As the Slayer bent to retrieve it, Spike seized her arm and wrenched it up behind her back. He pulled the hapless girl to him and sunk his fangs deep into her neck. The Slayer gasped in pain as her life drained away. Spike turned the dying girl toward him. She spoke to him in Chinese. The translation was, "Tell my mother I'm sorry..." "I'm sorry, love, I don't speak Chinese." Spike said. The Slayer died and Spike threw her to the ground like so much refuse. Panting heavily, he licked his lips with pleasure. "A fella could get used to this." Spike said to himself. Spike was staring down at the Slayer's corpse as Drusilla glided into the temple. "Oh, Spike, look at the wonderful mess you've made. That's a Slayer you've done in. Naughty... wicked... Spike." Drusilla said. Drusilla held out her hand and Spike approached, with lust in his eyes. He grabbed Drusilla up in his arms and looked into her eyes. "You ever hear them saying the blood of a Slayer is a powerful aphrodisiac?" Spike asked. Drusilla looked at him, wanton hunger in her eyes. "Here, now... have a taste." Spike held his blood-covered finger up and Drusilla seductively sucked on it, moaning with pleasure. Spike grinned and picked her up, pushing her against the wall and kissing her passionately. She eagerly responded, pulling at his clothes as they sunk to the floor in each other's embrace. Houses burned brightly as the terrified villagers fled the looters. Spike and Drusilla walked arm-in-arm through the violence, smiling and whispering to each other. They met Darla and Angel, the four of them formed an incongruous picture of calm amid the panic and terrified screams around them. "So where have you two been?" Darla asked. "May I tell?" Drusilla asked Spike. "No need to be humble." "My little Spike just killed himself a Slayer." Drusilla said proudly to Darla. Angelus looked him up and down, his face expressionless. "Congratulations. I guess that makes you one of us." Angelus said. "Don't be so glum, mate! The way you tell it, one Slayer snuffs it, another one rises. I figure there's a new Chosen One getting all chosen as we speak. I tell you what... when and if this new bird does show up, I'll give you first crack at her." Spike said. Drusilla's attention was suddenly drawn to something behind Angelus. "I smell fear." Drusilla said. "Yeah, this whole place reeks of it." Angelus said. Drusilla sunk into Spike's arms, ecstatic. "It's intoxicating!" Drusilla said. Angel took Darla by the arm. "Let's get out of here. This rebellion's starting to bore me." Angelus said. Spike and Drusilla revelled in the misery around them, laughing in each other's arms, before following Angel and Darla into the night. "That was the best night of my life." Spike said to Buffy. Spike and Buffy were still at the pool table. Buffy was face was neutral, expressionless, at Spike's casual description of the death of a Slayer. "And I've had some sweet ones." Then off her look. "What are you looking at?" "You got off on it." Buffy said disgusted. "Well, yeah. I suppose you're telling me you don't?" He laughed. "How many of my kind reckon you've done?" "Not enough." Spike nodded, "And we just keep coming. But you can kill a hundred, a thousand, a thousand thousand and the enemies of Hell besides and all we need is for one of us, just one, sooner or later to have the thing we're all hoping for." "And that would be what?" Spike leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "One... good... day." Buffy pushed him away from her. Spike laughed and said, "Hey! You asked and I'm tellin'. The problem with you, Summers, is you've gotten so good, you're starting to think you're immortal." "Not really. I just know I can handle myself." "Oh? Then how do you explain this?" Spike reaches out and gently punched Buffy in her wound. Both Buffy and Spike cry out in pain. Buffy doubled over and Spike's chip 'set' his brain on fire. "So that's it? Lesson over?" Buffy asked, gasping. "Not even close. Come on." Spike picked up a pool cue and headed outside. Michael strode purposefully through the mist-shrouded trees toward the crypt where the vampires were still partying. The Rocker Vampire was regaling his companions with his tale of fighting and besting a Slayer. "Killed with her own weapon!" he said. The Rocker Vampire held up Buffy's stake for the others to see. "They ought to put this in a museum!" The door banged open and Michael walked confidently in. "You know what they put in museums? Mostly dead things." Michael said. The Rocker Vampire leapt up and charged Michael. He easily blocked the demon's blows and seized its arm, giving it a violent twist. The vampire's arm broke with an audible snap and the stake dropped from its hand into Michael's. Without hesitation, Michael slammed it into the vampire's chest. As the dust settled to the floor, Michael took out a sword. Michael gathered lightning with it. Then he slammed it onto the floor in front of the stunned vampires. It had created a ball of glowing Black Lightning on the floor; it began to grow. Michael ran out the crypt door. Michael dashed into the trees as the crypt exploded from within. Out side the Bronze Buffy squared off with Spike. "Give it to me." Buffy said. Spike lashed out at her and she easily ducked his blows, then wrapped her hand around his throat, pinning him against a chain-link fence. Spike smiled and laughed. "What?" Buffy asked. "Lesson the second: ask the right questions. You want to know how I beat 'em?" Buffy released him and stepped back. "The question isn't 'How'd I win?'. The question is 'Why'd they lose?'." "What's the difference?" Spike lunged at her, the pool cue aimed at her throat. Spike stopped it inches from her skin. Buffy never even flinched. "There's a big difference, love." Buffy kicked the cue from his hands. "How'd you kill the second one?" "Hmm? A bit like this." Spike sent a series of punches at her, but Buffy easily ducked them all. "That didn't hurt?" "I knew I couldn't touch you. If there's no intent to hurt you, then that chip they shoved up my brain never activates. If, on the other hand..." Spike's face changed and he lunged at her, but he's brought up short by a crippling brain seizure. "See, now that hurt." "Yeah? This hurt too?" Buffy gut-punched him, then pounded him to the ground. "How'd you kill 'em, Spike?" Spike jumped up and attacked, but Buffy flipped him over onto the ground again, whipped out a stake and landed on top of him. Spike seized her wrist before she can plunge it into his chest. "You're not ready to know." "I'm ready." "Okay, then. Went like this." Spike flipped Buffy up and off him. New York City, 1977, in a subway car a young black woman in dark leather landed hard on the floor of the train and rolls to her feet. Spike, looking very much like Billy Idol, now with his trademark bleached hair, squared off with the Slayer and threw a punch. The car was empty, save for the two combatants. As Spike fought the Slayer in the past, he also fought Buffy in the present; the battles mirrored each other across time. Spike felt no pain from the chip, indicating the fight with Buffy was more demonstration than anything else. "The first was all business but the second, she had a touch of your style." Spike said to Buffy. Spike and the Slayer traded blows. This Slayer did indeed fight much like Buffy. She ran Spike headfirst into the train car's window, smashing it. Spike loosed a cry of delight and attacked again. "She was cunning, resourceful... oh, did I mention? Hot. I could have danced all night with that one." Spike said to Buffy. "You think we're dancing?" Buffy asked. "That's all we've ever done." Spike broke one of the subway car's handrails and wielded it as a weapon. "And the thing about the dance is, you never get to stop." Spike flipped the pool cue up and spun it like the handrail. "Every day you wake up, it's the same bloody question that haunts you: is today the day I die?" Spike said to Buffy Spike brought the pool cue down in a vicious arc and Buffy counter-attacked, enraged. Spike cracked the Slayer across the face with the metal rail, sending her reeling to the floor and pounded her repeatedly with it. "Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you." Spike said again to Buffy. Spike brought the rail down for another blow but the Slayer caught it and slammed it back into his face. "And part of you wants it... not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it." Spike said to Buffy. Buffy had heard enough. She backhanded Spike across the face. On the subway, Spike fell to the floor and the Slayer jumped on his chest, straddling him. She pounded him repeatedly in the face as the train car's lights went out. When they came back on, the Slayer was on her back with Spike straddling her, his hands around her throat. "Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day." Buffy stared at him, her face a blank mask. The Slayer struggled beneath Spike. "That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: What's it like? Where does it lead you? And now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land. Every Slayer... has a death wish." Spike gripped the Slayer's head between his hands and twisted violently, snapping her neck and killing her. "Even you." Spike said to Buffy. Spike stood up and faced Buffy. In the subway, he walked to the end of the car and pulled the emergency cord. As the train ground to a halt, he returned to the dead Slayer and pulled off her black leather coat. "The only reason you've lasted as long as you have is you've got ties to the world... your mum, your brat kid sister, the Scoobies. They all tie you here but you're just putting off the inevitable." Spike shrugged into the Slayer's coat. It was the coat he was still wearing that night. "Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. And the second- the second- that happens..." Spike clapped his hands together inches from Buffy's face. "You know I'll be there. I'll slip in... have myself a real good day." Spike stared intently into Buffy's eyes, then stepped back. "Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she did." "Get out of my sight. Now." Buffy said coldly. "Oh... did I scare ya? You're the Slayer. Do something about it. Hit me. Come on. One good swing. You know you want to." "I mean it." "So do I. Give it me good, Buffy. Do it!" The tension was rising between them. "Spike..." His passion aroused, Spike leaned in to kiss her. She backed away in horror. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked. He grabbed Buffy by the arms; his words came in a breathless pant. "Come on. I can feel it, Slayer. You know you want to dance." "Say it's true. Say I do want to." Buffy shoved him to the ground and looked down at him with disgust. "It wouldn't be you, Spike. It would never be you." Buffy tossed the wad of cash at him contemptuously. "You're beneath me." Buffy turned and walks off into the night, leaving Spike alone in the dark alley. Spike began to gather up the money, stifling a sob. As Buffy's words rang down through the years, he became the same spurned and awkward young man he once was. Her words hurt him more than her blows ever had. He closed his eyes in anguish, takes a deep breath, and when he looked up again, only murderous hate remained. Michael, Kaz, Willow, Tara, Anya and Xander walked down the street towards a dark building that had blacked out windows. "Where's Buffy?" Willow asked. "Down the Magic Box with Giles, researching how the other Slayers died." Michael told them. "Poor Buffy, getting injured like that must have really shaken her up. That hasn't happened for a long time." Willow said. "I know, she feels vulnerable, she knows she can be beaten," Kaz said. "I'll see her tomorrow, check she's OK. But back to tonight." Michael said. "So, where are we going?" Xander asked. "O.T.T." Kaz said. "What's O.T.T?" Tara asked. "Over The Top. It's a club. You'll love it, it's better than the Bronze." Michael told them. "The music's way better, it's less depressing, you can also do karaoke. Just a warning this is a club for demons as well as humans, but only friendly demons. There's spells in the place to stop anyone fighting, it's kind of a sanctuary. Also it's a place for gay people and cross-dressers." "I guess you two fit in well here." Willow said to Michael and Kaz. "Yeah! The owner is a personal friend of ours too, his name's Lowal." Kaz said. They all entered the club, loud, decent rock music blared out of the many speakers around the club. The club was on two levels and was very brightly decorated, there were many luminous chairs and sofas for people to sit on and talk to each other. At one end of the room was a large stage with video screens behind it. Along one wall was a bar that was covered with flashing lights and reflective strips, behind the bar was a large mirror. Working behind the bar were several people and demons. Despite the garish colours of everything in the bar, it all worked very well together. Anya, Xander, Willow and Tara stared around with open mouths, there were people dancing with demons, men dancing with men, women dancing with other woman and the usual men dancing with woman. "This is the place to come to have a great laugh, but only if you're open minded." Michael shouted above the music. Someone, who looked fairly human, walked up and put his arms around Michael and Kaz's shoulders. The 'man' wore a short dress that sparkled pink, light blue and a seay green colour. He wore turquoise eye shadow, blue eyeliner and shiny pink lipstick. "Michael, Kaz, my darlings how are you?" He had camp voice. "Guys this is Lowal." Kaz said. "Lowal, meet Anya and Xander, they've been dating a while, and this is Willow and Tara, two gay Wicca's." "Welcome, my pretties, to O.T.T." Lowal said. "I should tell you now that at this club anything goes, especially backstage, but there is no fighting or violence." Lowal leaned close to Willow and Tara. "Don't be afraid to make out here, no one will mind... Come let me get you some drinks." Lowal ushered them all toward the bar, making their way through the crowds of people and demons. "Anya may I just say, how lucky you are to have a hunk like Xander. You make sure you keep a hold of him. He's such a darling." "Oh don't worry, I will." Anya said as Xander looked a little embarrassed. "Now, Michael where is that girlfriend of yours?" Lowal asked. "I'm dying to meet the girl who can have you whenever she wants." "She couldn't come tonight." Michael said. "Oh, that's such a shame." Lowal said. "Don't worry I'll bring her next time." "You do that, darling. Does she know she has some competition?" Lowal asked, making no effort to hide the fact he fancied Michael. "No, I don't think so." Michael said. "But I do know I have some competition." They all sat down on bar stools, more or less in the centre of the bar, and Lowal went around the other side of the bar. As he walked away Tara noticed he had a tail, which proved he wasn't human. "So... who is it?" Lowal asked from the other side of the bar. "You mean the other person who wants to get their hands in Buffy's pants?" "Yes, of course." Michael didn't reply, he just looked across at his sister, who grinned. "No?" Lowal asked incredulously. "Yes." Kaz said proudly. "You can't sleep with your brothers girlfriend." Lowal said. Willow, Tara, Anya and Xander all stared at Kaz; they hadn't really known that Kaz fancied Buffy. "Why not?" Kaz asked. "Will she go for ménage-a-trois?" Lowal asked with a wink. "Now how about some drinks. Six shots of JD?" "Yes please." Michael said. Lowal poured out six shots of Jack Daniels and then handed them out. "Just knock 'em back and bang your glass down on the bar." Michael said. Fool For Love Michael and Kaz downed the JD without hesitation and banged their glasses on the table. Despite the fact that they'd done it before they still made faces when they downed the JD. "Come on," Kaz said, "It's as easy as that." So Xander knocked his back, and made a face, but still banged his glass on the table. So, Willow, Tara and Anya followed suit all reacting in the same way. "Again?" Michael asked. They all nodded and Lowal poured another round. In his crypt, Spike threw open an old trunk and started searching through the contents. Harmony was looking at him with concern. "Spike, what are you doing?" Harmony asked. "Beneath me... I'll show her." Spike said to himself. Spike took out a double-barrelled shotgun, cracked the breech and loaded two rounds. "Put her six bloody feet beneath me. Hasn't got a death wish? Bitch won't need one." Spike gathered up his things, preparing to go after Buffy. Harmony was worried for him. "Okay, I'm trying to be supportive here so don't drive a stake through my heart like last time, but you can't kill Buffy. She's the Slayer. She is so gonna kick your ass." "I've got two barrels here that'll prove you wrong." "I knew you'd take this personally. You are so sensitive! How are you going to kill her? Think! The second you even point that thing at her, you're gonna be all ahhh!" Harmony held her hand to her head in mock pain. "And then you'll get bitch-slapped up and down Main Street unless she's had enough and just stakes you!" "Sure, it'll hurt like Hell for about two hours..." Spike said. Spike grabbed Harmony by the neck and twisted, she gasped in pain. "But she'll be dead just a little longer than that." Spike tossed Harmony aside and ran out. "Fine! But don't come crying to me when you fail. You couldn't kill her before you got the chip. You had plenty of chances!" Outside a Spanish-style tavern in South America, 1998, Drusilla and Spike were arguing. "Why can't you kill her?" Drusilla asked. "You're the one who keeps bringing her up! I haven't said a word about the bloody Slayer since we left California. She's on the other side of the planet, Dru!" Spike said. "But you're lying! I can still see her floating all around you, laughing. Why? Why won't you push her away?" "But I did, pet. I did it for you. You keep punishing me. Carrying on with creatures like this." A Chaos Demon was standing nearby, holding a beer. He was tall with antlers that dripped and oozed. "Okay, you guys obviously have a thing going on here." The demon said. "I have to find my pleasures, Spike. You taste like ashes." "So this is my fault now?" Spike said, talking about the demon. "I didn't know she was seeing somebody." The demon said then off Spike's look. "I should take off." "Yeah, why don't you do that?" The demon blew a kiss to Drusilla, then walked off. "You can't blame the ghoul, Spike. You're all covered with her. I look at you... all I see is the Slayer." Buffy entered Joyce's to find her mother packing a suitcase. "Hey, I put together that grocery list for you." Buffy said. "Oh, great. Thanks, hon." Joyce said. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. Have you seen my conditioner?" "Did you look under the sink?" Joyce realized that's where it was and went to retrieve it. "Where are you going?" "Oh, I was hoping to put this off but... you know the nothing that I've been dealing with the last couple of weeks? It might not be nothing." "What is it?" "I'm staying overnight at the hospital for observation. I'm getting a CAT scan." Buffy didn't know what to say. Joyce was quick to reassure her. "It's only one night and they say even if there is something, it's still very early if they didn't see it before. I'm going to be fine." Buffy put on a brave smile for her mother's sake. "I know you will." The back door to the Summers' house opened and Buffy walked out and sat down on the back steps. She was terrified for her mother; her eyes were brimming with tears. She put her head in her lap and sobbed uncontrollably. Spike watched her from the bushes, then moved forward, striding purposefully toward her, gun at his side. He raised the gun and cocked it. Buffy looked up at the sound, her face wet with tears. "What do you want now?" Buffy asked. Spike was about to pull the trigger when he saw her tears and through them, her pain. His rage vanished in an instant. "What's wrong?" Spike asked. "I don't want to talk about it." Buffy replied. Spike lowered the gun. "Is there something I can do?" Buffy said nothing, the reality of her mother's situation hitting her like a steel weight, overcame her. Spike sat down next to her and tentatively patted her back, trying to comfort her. She let him. The two of them, sat together, side by side in silence.