"You know, this is all your fault." Buffy stalked towards the run-down motel.
"My fault? How the bloody hell is this fault?" Spike stared at her in confusion.
Throwing her hands up in exasperation, Buffy yelled, "Because you just had to rent the car from that friend of yours!"
"Well how was I supposed to know his cars were piles of junk?" Spike asked, following his fuming companion.
Buffy whirled around. "I don't know, maybe because he's a demon?"
"Yeah, but I got that car for a steal. Only twenty bucks for a month."
"That should have been your first clue that something was up!"
"Well, excuse me, Miss Know-It-All! I didn't hear you complaining when you got to use the money I saved on those fancy boots of yours," he pointed out.
Buffy glanced down at her Steve Madden boots. "They're cute," she said defensively. "And that's not the point. Let's just drop it and rent some rooms."
Spike cast a disdainful look around the motel as they stepped inside. "Camelot, my ass. I'm pretty sure Camelot wasn't a dump like this."
"Shh," Buffy warned, approaching the desk. "Excuse me; do you have two rooms available?"
The desk manager barely glanced up. "Nope, we've got one left."
"Are you sure?" Sharing a room with Spike didn't really appeal to her.
"Positive. It's been plenty crowded around here with those damn reporters everywhere. I'll be glad when both those Echolls are in prison where they belong. You want the room or not?" He dangled the key in front of her.
Buffy smiled grimly and took the key. "Yeah, thanks." She spun around and walked off, tossing Spike the key and ignoring the delighted smile on his face. "I'm going patrolling."
"I'll catch up with you later, love," he called after her retreating back.
---x---
A salty drop of water slid down her face, quivered for a second on the tip of her nose, and fell to the earth that was once again covered with grass. This wasn't where she should be today. She should be out partying, celebrating her best friend's birthday in a club somewhere, not visiting said best friend's grave. But life wasn't fair and here she was, watering the cemetery grass with her tears. She swiped at her wet cheeks and turned to leave, but instead bumped smack into someone.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Buffy said hurriedly, helping Veronica to her feet.
"It's fine. It was my fault anyway."
A vampire would have attacked by now, so this girl probably wasn't one, but she kept her hand near the stake in her back pocket, just in case. I wonder if she's a Slayer, Buffy thought. "Are you…?"
Veronica, thinking she was asking whether she was visiting someone, indicated at the gravestone behind her. "My best friend. It's her birthday." I don't know why I told her that, Veronica realized.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I-I lost my mother a few years ago so I know what you're going through." Buffy, too, was startled at her willingness to give up such private information to a stranger. Then again, maybe that's why she was able to admit it so easily. This girl was a stranger. She would never see her again. It was alright if she let down a walls a bit. "I'm Buffy, by the way"
Veronica smiled "I'm Veronica." She was about to offer her own condolences when a sharp yell cut through the still night air. The two girls turned and groaned in unison, Veronica at the unmistakable yellow X-Terra and its owner and Buffy at the platinum blonde hair she could have seen even without her Slayer vision.
"Logan," Veronica muttered wearily. He just had to get himself into some more trouble.
"Spike," Buffy growled angrily. He just couldn't keep himself out of trouble.
The two girls ran forward. Logan and Spike turned as they approached, smirks plastered on their faces.
"Ronnie!" Logan exclaimed. "Imagine running into you here! I thought hookers worked on the other side of town."
"Oh, funny, Logan. I'm laughing on the inside. Almost as much as I will when that jury finds you guilty. Maybe you can share a cell with daddy dearest. I'm sure Lamb would be more than happy to arrange it. Probably already has."
Logan blanched.
"See, now that's funny." She pointed at his pale face. "You know the saying; don't bite the hand that saves you. Now, why are you bothering this nice man here?"
"It's not my fault!" Logan exclaimed, having finally found his voice.
Veronica pretended to think. "Hmm, I'm finding that kinda hard to believe, considering it's you."
Logan opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off when Buffy cleared her throat. "I'm pretty sure Spike is just as much to blame for whatever happened."
"Yeah, Mister Bad Dye Job over there just ran up and tackled me!"
Spike growled at the reference to his hair. "I thought you were a –"
"Stranger!" Buffy exclaimed, shooting Spike a warning glare. "He has a thing about strangers. Sorry."
"It's all right, isn't it, Logan?" Veronica elbowed him in the ribs.
Logan nodded curtly. Then, his eyes glinting mischievously, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a card, which he handed to Spike. "My stylist. Maybe she can fix you. That whole Goth look isn't working for you. Your girlfriend, on the other hand…"
Spike growled again and pulled free of Buffy, throwing himself on the smug teenager. As he flew through the air, something strange happened. His face changed into something hideous and his teeth grew into fangs. Veronica's eyes widened and she let out a strangled scream. Logan, on the other hand, barely had time to register the change before he was on the ground.
"Logan!" Veronica screeched. Buffy moved closer and placed a calming hand on Veronica's arm, but Veronica jerked away and screamed, "Let go of me!"
"I'm not a vampire, Veronica," Buffy said slowly. "I'm the opposite, actually."
"That thing is a vampire?" she shrieked. This was too much to handle. Backing away slowly, she watched in horror and Logan received a beating worse than the one the PCH bikers had given him on the bridge. The thought of the PCHers brought an idea to Veronica. She scrambled over to Logan's car, reached inside the glove compartment, and spun back around, a gun gleaming in her shaking hands.
"Veronica, stop! That won't help things." Buffy stared at Veronica pleadingly.
"Get him off Logan." Veronica ordered slowly and deliberately. "Now." She had only held a gun once before: the night Aaron was arrested. And she had never used one. But she would if she had to.
Buffy nodded mutely. She stepped forward and grabbed Spike by the arm, pulling harder than she ever had. It took some doing, but she separated him from the teenager.
"Logan?" Veronica called, her voice wavering slightly.
He groaned in response.
"Logan, you have to get in the car."
Logan slowly lifted his head and looked over at her. She stared back, entreating him to just obey for once. She got her wish when he slowly lifted himself to his feet and hobbled over to his car, using the last of his strength to slide into the passenger seat.
Her eyes trained on Spike and Buffy, Veronica slowly backed over to the driver side. When she reached it, she flung the door open, jumped in, and floored it, grateful that Logan had left the keys in the ignition. Her heart beat against the inside of her chest and her breath came in short, painful gasps but she didn't slow the car.
"Veronica." Logan's words were slurred.
"Don't talk. It'll just make it worse."
"That was a vampire."
Veronica's voice faltered. "I know."
A few minutes later, Logan said softly, "I'm sorry."
Veronica glanced over at him in disbelief. "Logan, that wasn't your fault." For once, she added inwardly.
"That's not what I meant," he whispered before slipping in unconsciousness. And Veronica understood.
"Me, too, Logan," she whispered back. "Me, too."