Disclaimer: Don't own characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any other shows mentioned throughout this fic.

Author's Notes: Something I'm just trying out and is my first Buffy fic. Not a lot happens really to begin with but everything starts somewhere. Please let me know what you think of the style and how I've written it. Thanks.

Chapter One: And Life Was So Normal

"Bye!" She called as the bluey-green car pulled off the driveway. "Have a good time! No need to rush! I am 17 now!" She waved as her grandparents drove off to attend one of the many meetings they had on any given Wednesday evening. Once they'd driven out of sight down the road she quickly shut the door and hopped about on the doormat to shake out the cold night's air. Picking up the key from in one of the many drawers by the door she locked it. As she did this she absent-mindedly traced her fingers along one of the patterns of the two mock-stained-glass windows set into the door. She didn't really like them particularly but they were a little bit of niceness in her drab, dull and meaningless existence.

She immediately shook these thoughts out of her head. More and more recently she'd been feeling dissatisfied with her life. Not that there was any way to rectify this feeling, not really. But every so often she'd be granted a release from her life. A night when she didn't have to worry about anything because she had the house to herself and she could sing; something she never had the nerve to do with her grandparent around. Each time she did they'd always comment on how she'd be singing off-key or sounding too sharp or too flat or not putting enough emotion into it, even if they had no idea what song she was attempting.

With them out for about four hours, she could sing to her hearts content. Anything and everything, from Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious to Family Portrait, from Lazytown to the Lion King, the world of music was hers to sing perfectly (or if she felt in the mood, deliberately imperfectly). Tonight, though she wasn't in the mood to sing a song such as she usually did. No tonight she felt a bit more musically inclined. Climbing the stairs two at a time, she went into the back bedroom usually saved for when her sister stayed on her visits from university but which held her own computer (no laptop for her which was actually no big deal) above which sat the small collection of music she'd collected. Her fingers passed over her Pop Party CDs (whatever possessed her to buy those she still couldn't figure out), her 3 Busted albums, several Westlife and Steps singles and finally settled on the right one.

Yes. Just what was required to lighten her dampened and exam-drenched stress. She held it in her hands and looked at its cover. She still couldn't believe she actually owned it. When she'd first gone to buy it, it was £14 and, as much as she wanted it, she couldn't justify spending that much on just one CD; it wasn't who she was. She could hardly believe her luck when, just a few short weeks ago, it came up in HMV's sale under the 'two for £10' offer. Along with this she'd bought Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End soundtrack. She'd been lucky. To be honest she'd only bought the second CD so she could buy this one.

Rushing down the stairs, she carefully placed the disc into the ageing, but fully-functioning, hi-fi system her grandparents owned. Pressing play, her excitement grew as she heard the orchestra striking up before slowly coming back down into a small plinky plonky tune. Her chest almost exploded with warmth as Sarah-Michelle Gellar began singing.

Every single night the same arrangement,

I go out and fight the fight,

Still I always feel this strange estrangement…

Going Through the Motions. The first song on the soundtrack of 'Once More With Feeling'.

Back in September she'd found starting a new school for Sixth Form wasn't easy. She'd made friends easily enough, easier than she had before, and settled into her classes quickly enough but still nothing had quite felt right and she didn't know why. To cheer herself up she'd gone to Milton Keynes Central Library like she often did. She felt confident she'd find a new Manga or Graphic Novel to disappear into for a few days and while there she'd glanced over the DVDs. Looking through it she'd seen one she'd kept seeing several times while scanning the shelves in HMV and Zavvi (before it closed). It was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD with the words, Once More With Feeling written musically across the bottom. The cover seemed to hark back to the kind you saw on musicals from the 50s and had made her laugh.

She remembered having watched Buffy, and liking it, numerous times before she lived with her grandparents but nothing really about the episodes themselves. So she'd borrowed it from the library at a charge of £1.25 for one week and, curled up in her pyjamas and beneath her covers, she'd watched it that very night.

She'd felt very stupid the next morning as, after crying at how brilliant it was, she'd stayed up and watched it several more times before settling into possibly the most musically inclined sleep she'd ever had. After returning it to the library, she'd check HMV and Zavvi every single time she visited the Centre: MK to see if they had it in stock and if they did how much it was. Unfortunately, HMV was selling it for £25 and Zavvi, when it had finally got a copy, was selling it for £12 which she didn't have at the time and when she returned one week later Zavvi had permanently closed its doors.

Luckily though, while on a French Exchange with her school she'd bought Once More With Feeling along with the rest of Season Six on DVD; and despite her worst fears it had automatically played in English with the option of changing to French dubbing. Of course she hadn't told her grandparents and it spent most of the time hidden in one of many hiding places where things of such great value were kept and she moved them around every so often.

Presently, after pulling the curtains across the windows and turning on a few of the lamps, she curled up in one of the green armchairs by the window and listened as the CD continued through I've Got a Theory. As Nicholas Brendon muttered something about witches she watched the lamplight play across the glass section which made up about two-thirds of the coffee table that stood lengthways going towards the gas fireplace. Once the orchestra reached the beginning of The Mustard she carefully stood up and silently shifted the coffee table, manoeuvring it around another chair and past a sofa into the other room. Rushing back there was a large space just big enough for one person to swing around in energetically, which was very handy as I'll Never Tell had just began to play. Standing in the middle of the room she began bopping crazily like she always did when she was 'dancing'. One day she would watch it again just for the sole purpose of learning the dance that Xander and Anya had for this song.

'Dear God," she thought, "if my friends could see me now what would they be thinking?" she couldn't help smiling at this thought. They probably wouldn't bat an eyelid. She had a habit of doing something…scratch that…ANYthing to stop herself being bored and to be honest her friends had given up on expecting her to be normal in that respect.

His eyes are beady.

This is my verse, hello! She-

Look at me! I'm dancing crazy!

She tried to mimic the dance moves as the music in the instrumental played and wasn't sure if she was doing them even half-right. She didn't care. Life, her life, needed more moments like these; moments when she felt free. Free to look like an idiot with no one there to judge her.

"That's some fancy footwork you got going there." said a voice.

She froze and opened her eyes, which she hadn't even realised she'd closed while dancing, and found she was facing towards the fireplace. Above the fireplace hung a rectangular mirror which she'd found out last week was surrounded by a design referred to only as Gatsby. She'd found this funny as part of her A level English work she was studying the Great Gatsby for her exams. Looking in this mirror she saw a man stood just by the bottom of the stairs which descended into the living room, leaning casually on the bottom balustrade while a smile played across their lips. She tried to breathe in but her breathe caught in her throat. Surely not? Turning, quickly, she saw the same man stood at the bottom of the stairs with the same relaxed stance, the same smile.

This was too much and she opened her mouth and screamed. Not one of those high-pitched squeals but rather a more throaty panicked yell of 'Ahh…' that went on and on. The guy at the bottom of the stairs grimaced as she began screaming and jumped forward. She automatically took a step back and she stood on a part of the carpet which had been smoothed down by the coffee table being there almost constantly, causing her to lose her footing. She fell backwards, still screaming, anticipating the painful slam of the floor against her back as she landed.

But she didn't. Somehow the guy at the bottom of the stairs had leapt forward, slipped his arm around her and caught her quite a few feet above the ground. Now he was holding her up with his right arm while he had his left hand clamped over her mouth to stop her screaming.

"God!" he said. "You've got a pair of lungs on you."

She stared up and looked into his steely blue-grey eyes.

"Now I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth." he stated plainly as though explaining it to a child. "But I can't do that if you're going to start wailing again." He gazed deep into her eyes to see if she was registering what he were saying. "Are you going to scream?"

She shook her head vigorously.

"Promise?"

She nodded.

Gently he lifted her up so she was standing vertically again and pulled his left hand away from her mouth. She didn't scream but instead stood there gawping at him.

"What?" he said cluelessly. "Have I got something on my face?" he reached up a hand to his cheek and something behind her caught his eye. "Bloody hell!" he pushed past her quite roughly and she was shocked she'd felt anything as she didn't take her eyes from him. He couldn't be real. Could he?

He ran a hand, the one he'd raised to his face, through his hair. She'd almost immediately thought platinum, but it wasn't platinum. She'd checked, researched, and it definitely wasn't platinum, although it was sometimes called that. No; what was generally better accepted was peroxide.

Eventually he seemed to remember she was there and turned back to face her, leaning back against the mantelpiece. He wasn't flushed but he was clearly startled by it. His gaze rested on her again.

"Sorry about barging in." he said calmly but his face was screwed up in slight confusion. "The back door was open."

She closed her mouth and nodded, she hadn't locked it yet. After all her grandparents hadn't been gone long she didn't need to lock it yet.

"But…" she paused, thinking very carefully, "the back gate was locked. And the garage."

He stopped leaning on the mantelpiece, probably worried that she might scream and he'd have to stop her again, but he didn't come any closer; he just froze.

In the silence between them the CD was still playing. In what had happened she'd forgotten that the CD was on. Listening she heard the words to her personal favourite song:

That's great

But I don't wanna play

Cus being with you touches me

More than I can say

Rest in Peace as sung by James Marsters.

He glared at her with an anger burning in his eyes that she'd never seen before. So intense it was that she automatically took a step back.

"Where'd you get this?" he demanded. His voice wasn't raised or angry but there was something in his voice which pointed out the fact that he wasn't happy.

Her mouth opened and closed several times as she stumbled over words to answer. How could she explain to him? She couldn't even explain his existence to herself.

He strode forward and stopped when his face was barely inches away from hers. She glanced up at him, he was maybe an inch and a half/two inches taller than her and his eyes glowered back at her.

"Where'd you get it?" he demanded again, this time with more of a growl to his voice. He grabbed her by her arms and held her firmly in place so that she couldn't run or turn away from him. "Don't lie."

"Th-th-the shop." She stuttered. His gaze didn't change; his face did.

His brow furrowed, his face scrunched up and his eyes went a maddened yellow. In spite of the severity of the situation, she couldn't help looking at his face in awe. This was really happening! But it couldn't be. But it was!

His vamp-face fully formed, he shook his head in disappointment.

"I said don't lie." The disappointment showed in his voice as well.

He leaned in to her neck, his teeth bared and as he got closer, she could feel his hot breath brushing her flesh.

'Come on.' She thought. 'Any minute now.'

Just as she'd hoped (not knew but hoped) he pulled sharply back, cradling his head and crying out in pain. In grabbing his head he'd let go of her arms and for a while she stood trying to rub the life back into them. Meanwhile on the floor, he had taken a few steps back and then fallen to his knees.

As the pain stopped, his hands fell to his side and he looked up at her. She was wearing a shocked look and had jumped back on to the sofa as he had fallen forward. Seeing that he was no longer in pain, she cautiously stepped down onto the floor again.

"Why don't we start at the beginning?" she suggested. She didn't sound angry or patronising. If anything she sounded slightly scared, her voice shaking slightly, but above all she sounded curious.

She held out a hand to help him up and he just looked at it. Glancing back up at her he saw she was curious. It was written all over her face. By the look of it she wanted to know just about as much as he did. Perhaps they could give each other the information they wanted. He reached out and took her hand, pulling himself to a standing position.

She let go of his hand and folded her arms. "I'm Elizabeth." She said. He nodded at Elizabeth.

"I'm Spike." Surprisingly she nodded back.

"I know."