Buffy walked away from the two jerks who had been mouthing off crudely and lewdly, wishing she still possessed the ol' kickass ability of a Slayer. "No, Angel," she had told her over-protective shadow, "I can take care of myself."

Who was she kidding? Eighteenth birthday comes, yet still she was a fifteen-year-old where it counted the most, in her ego.

She shot a furtive look around the street as she hurried, hoping to detect some clue that Angel had ignored her protest and followed her. Stupid dumb vampire, of all the times to listen to her, he chooses tonight. He's basically a stalker she can't shake, until tonight.

She passed a house bordered by a ten-foot hedge, and a giant of a vampire stood waiting against the hedge as she passed. Buffy blinked in disbelief, because in her fear she had imagined a giant vamp awaiting her, and here he was.

He snatched her arm in an iron grip and pulled her into the pokey little branches with a gutteral snarl of triumph.

Buffy shrieked, and as the vampire's hand tried to close against her mouth she twisted her neck away and screamed, "Help me!"

Her attacker threw her down onto the grass with thudding force, her breath forced violently from her flattened lungs. She could hardly move as she fought for breath.

Spike rounded the hedge, a cigarette in his lips and an annoyed expression on his face. The big vampire turned and fiercly stabbed a finger at him.

"Stay out of it."

Spike blew smoke at him and flicked the cigarette at his face.

The big vampire took a step back, his eyes glowing red, his vamped-out face horrible in the light from the street lamp.

"So you wanna interfere?"

"Kralik?" Spike intoned, and smiled.

Kralik cocked his head to one side. Spike stepped back to let the light reveal him better.

"Spike? It's been ... it's been - "

"A century, give or take," Spike finished.

Kralik laughed and jumped toward Spike, seizing him in a tremendous embrace. Spike slapped his shoulder blades in response, and for a second Buffy thought they were fighting. Then Kralik dropped the smaller vamp and chuckled gravelly.

"Last time we were together, it was Rome, yes?"

Spike nodded. "Veni, vidi, vici."

Kralik howled in delight and moved forward to slap an arm on Spike's shoulder with resounding force. "We both conquered, eh, my friend?"

Buffy managed to draw a squeaking breath into her aching breast, though she felt paralyzed. She watched the two warily, wondering if the two would share her blood, or fight for it. Either way, she was certainly dead.

"What brings you to this humble, dull city?"

"The Watcher Council," Kralik replied. "They sent me here to kill the Slayer."

Spike regarded Buffy with detached amusement. He shook a cigarette from his pack and lipped it, then pulled out his silver Zippo. After a drag he asked, "How d'you beat her down so well? She's tough, I know."

Kralik shook his head. "Not now she isn't. Her watcher drugged her, now she's helpless. No powers. Her blood is mine for the taking, so if you'll excuse us for one minute, we can speak of old times after I have drained her."

Spike scowled. "Why in hell would the bloody Council want her dead? And why would Giles drug her?"

"She's eighteen today. Tradition. You ask too many questions, Spike. You had your Slayers, now I'm taking mine."

Spike's expression hardened. "I tolerated you, Kralik, but never liked you."

Kralik looked from Buffy, still on the ground, back to Spike. Confusion ruled his features.

"What?"

Spike smiled cooly. "I always knew you were a dickless loser, Kralik, but to sink this low makes you no better than a Quillon slug."

Kralik heaved in great angry breaths, and his chest expanded, his teeth gnashed and his eyes burned.

"Slayers shouldn't be easy slaughters. I'm not going to let you cheapen it."

Kralik snarled, "How do you plan to stop me?"

Spike shot forward and kicked Kralik in the face. He spun and kicked him again, and again, whirling dervishly. Kralik growled - absorbed another kick. He shook his head to clear it - another heel kick from Spike shattered teeth. He swung a mighty arm and missed as Spike ducked and leapt into a spinning high kick that broke Kralik's jaw.

Buffy had gathered enough breath to begin to move. She crawled warily away, toward the rock garden that fronted the house. Spike was her shot at survival, and he seemed to be getting in some good licks. But this Kralik vamp was so big and formidable, she couldn't afford to bank on Spike winning.

Spike landed a side kick that sent Kralik ass over teakettle into the gutter.

"Want some more, ol' buddy?" Spike challenged. "I'm not quite warmed up, yet."

Kralik pulled himself onto all fours. He glared hatefully at the smaller vampire and spat teeth and blood onto the pavement.

"I'll make you," he panted, "and your ... little girl-friend, there. I'll make you pay - pay for this."

Spike snorted. "You'll actually let people pay you to kick your ass now, Kralik? My, but you have gone downhill, haven't you? Perhaps I should just end your suffering, then."

He started toward Kralik, but his large opponent found the energy to lurch erect and he began to run lopsidedly down the street.

"Don't let me see you again, Kralik," Spike called after him. He turned toward Buffy, who was teetering on her knees with one hand on a granite boulder.

"Now then, Slayer. Let's get you home."

"Get away from me," Buffy said with as much venom as she could muster. She kept protesting as Spike gathered her in his arms and carried her along, whistling cheerily. She demanded he let her go. Promised him a staking by dawn, threatened him with Angel. She disparaged his sexual preference.

Spike stopped.

"You little trollop," he spat, and let her down. Buffy stumbled a little, but found her footing.

"I saved your ungrateful neck, and this is how you repay me?"

Buffy drew herself up pridefully. "And what do you want in return?"

"Well, not insults."

"I was laying them on thick, and they didn't seem to bother you. Until I got to the truth."

Spike sputtered exasperatedly. He raised his hands then dropped them as Buffy fliched. "If you had your powers," he grated. "If you were a man -"

"You'd kiss me?"

Spike's jaw dropped. He stepped back and put his hands on his hips. A sly smile spead on his lips.

"What are you smiling at?"

"I'll show you what a poof I am."

"What?"

Spike grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. Buffy felt pain as her bruised body was pressed for breath once again.

"Let me go."

"After I've shagged the sass out of you."

"No! Let me go."

"You don't think a lollipop like me will really take your virtue, do you? When we're all naked and horizontal together, you'll have proved your point, won't you?"

She cleched her jaws and sighed. "I know you're not gay, Spike."

"Right. And soon you'll have proof I'm not."

"No, Spike. Put me down." She repeated it in a quiet voice, and he did. Buffy saw they were in front of her house. Spike had not intended to do anything but take her home. She hesitated, and Spike shook his head and turned to go. Buffy stopped him with a touch.

"Spike."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For what you did. For saving me, for saving my life."

"Just find out why your watcher wants to end it."

"Why do you care?"

Spike grinned at her and raised his eyebrows mischievously. "Because after you get your powers back, you'll be the third Slayer I kill. And I only kill them when they're at their best."

Buffy's nose wrinkled. "You're scum. I'll be staking you soon."

"That's the spirit!" He gave Buffy's cheek a light slap, and Buffy swung at him, but Spike pulled away and was off, running into the darkness.

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Buffy slammed her fist down on Giles' desk. It hurt. A lot. But she would rather die than reveal any pain.

"Buffy? Er, how was your night off? Restful, I hope."

Buffy regarded him stonily.

"I, um, I have a meeting with the principal in a few -"

"Talk. Now."

Giles recognized the intensity in Buffy and tightened his lips. He took off his glasses then reflexively put them on again. Buffy grabbed them and flung them against the wall.

"As a Watcher," Giles said softly, "I am closely monitored by the Council in every -"

Buffy slapped Giles across the mouth. He recoiled in shock, knuckling the bubbling blood from his lips in disbelief.

"I am through with you. I am through with the Council. Take your books and your training and your tweed suits and shove them up your limey ass."

"Buffy!"

"Fuck you!" She turned and strode out of the library.

Giles watched her go. His head declined in shame, and he let blood drip from his lip unchecked, and it stained his shirtfront and vest. He remembered the meeting with Principal Snyder and rolled his eyes - no time for that little insect now. He got on the phone and dialed the direct international number to the Council.

The voice on the other side listened to him, then passed him along to the next in charge. As Giles was berating that hated, disembodied voice, a sudden screeching tone interrupted him.

Giles' face went blank. He returned the receiver to its cradle. After several minutes he absently checked his watch.

"Oh, Goodness." He recalled the meeting with Snyder. Hurriedly he found his extra eyeglasses, wondering what happened to the main pair. He found his files and sped off to the meeting.

As he walked he recalled Buffy's tantrum. And over something as simple as a test, too. A temporary loss of her powers had sent her into a jejune fit of adolescent rage. What a childish temper she had, couldn't lose her physical toys for a little while.

Oh well, he had his duties.