He followed closely. It was one of the few times he did so when the followee wanted him to. He grinned. He'd read her right after all. She was interested...in him, in his world. He hadn't planned on picking up anyone that night, knowing it wasn't right to start anything he couldn't finish. Truly, he'd just wanted to read his "bloody awful" poetry and throw back some pints. But then she had walked in.

She'd sat at the bar like she belonged there. Like it didn't occur to her how out of place she was. Everyone had known to give her a wide berth, too. At least after that first fool had gotten too close to her. He didn't know what she'd said or done, (whatever it was, she'd done it quietly) but no one else had bothered her until his approach. She had...power. It wasn't something she was aware of, but it existed, and he was...drawn to it. It wasn't supernatural, just her.

She led him to a high rise in one of the nicest parts of the city. He hoped that meant she would have some protection or insulation from whatever Wolfram and Hart and their bloody senior partners would unleash upon the world, but he doubted it, and as a cop, especially one with her obvious skill, she would be the second line of defense (with Angel and his lot as the first line). He pulled into the car park next to her spot, turning to see her exiting her car and walking his way. She felt it too. He pulled her to him. "I wasn't sure you really wanted me to follow."

She gave him that coy smile. "You promised to show me your world. How could I pass that up?"

"Right."

Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and she met him halfway. She was so...different. They were going to have fun. When their lips met, her eyes widened, probably the sensation of kissing a dead man, but she warmed up soon enough.

She broke for air as he watched her, listened to her breathe. Such a simple act, but it was something he didn't need to do. She caught his eye. "What?"

"You're just...so alive."

She beamed at him. "You know, Spike, I feel more alive right now than I have in years." She stroked his cheek. "Thank you for that."

They were both clinging to life. To something to live for. Her job with the department that treated her badly. Maybe if he lived long enough, he'd pay them a visit. Not that she needed it, but he wanted to do something for her. The people in her life didn't seem to know her like he did. They didn't see the...warmth and compassion. They just saw the...persona - the aloof woman at the biker bar.

He ran his fingers through her hair. "Ready to go inside?"

She nodded, guiding him through the door and into the lift. The doorman barely looked up but issued a curt greeting, "Captain."

"A fan of yours?" Spike asked when the lift doors closed behind them.

"He's just rude. His predecessor was a kindly old man. Knew everyone who lived here. Talked to us." She sighed. "This one. He just wants to punch in and punch out."

They arrived at her floor, and she led him to a door, opening it. He kissed her earlobe. "You have to invite me in first."

She moaned. "You mean that's true?"

"Afraid so. It's a nifty protection for most folks, but it gets in the way when a bloke's trying to do a bit of good. Oh, and I should add once I'm invited, I can come and go as I please."

"I don't think that'll be a problem." She smirked. "I invite you into my home, Spike. But please knock when you wish to visit."

"Ladies first." He held the door open for her, and she shot him a grin before walking in. He followed her inside; as she hit the light switch, he closed the door. The overwhelming presence of her was evident immediately. "Lovely place, pet."

When he stepped farther into the condo, the first thing he noticed was the artwork. There were paintings and prints all over. There had to be at least thirty. They were especially concentrated behind her desk, but the walls of the hallway had them too. "You dig art, I guess."

She nodded. "A bit of a hobby of mine. I used to paint some - nothing great or anything. It was just-"

"A way to relieve stress."

She sighed. "Now I'm happy just to go to the museum occasionally, but I have a lot of pride in my collection."

"It's very...you."

She ran her fingers through his hair. "Is that a good thing?"

"I think so." He stroked her cheek.

She hmmed. He liked that sound even more than her laugh. With his super developed sense of hearing, the sound seemed to thrum through him. It felt...good.

She went to the couch, stopping to toss her bag on the side table. It looked like that was something she did every evening: Put her work away, relax for the night. Then she sat down. She picked up the throw pillows and tossed them on the end tables.

He snorted. "As lovely as they are, I'm glad you did that."

"Hmm. Me too."

That sound again. He could probably get off on that alone. Too bad they wouldn't have time to test that theory. He sat next to her, and she slipped her feet out of those pumps - which she'd probably been wearing when she'd shot that bloke - and placed them in his lap. He'd never really been a "foot guy" but she did have nice feet. Pretty. Clean. Well pedicured.

Since they were in his lap and everything, it made sense to massage them. The sounds coming out of her indicated it was the right move. So he kept going.

As he kneaded her foot muscles, she looked at him with...he couldn't describe the various thoughts and feelings flowing across her face and within her brain. "Tell me about yourself," she said.

"This will have to be the abridged version, luv."

She nodded. "I know you're probably older than I, so I expect it's a long story."

"Yeah, 150 years long." He cleared his throat and began. "I was a real boy once with a beating heart and everything. My mother...she was a wonderful woman, the only person who liked my bloody awful poetry. She was dying, and I knew it."

She stroked his arm. "That's a terrible feeling."

He nodded. After all those years, losing his mother was still...tough. "Anyway, I went out one night and I met a girl. And she was really...well, she was a bit batty, but I didn't care." He gave a small smile. Dru and he had some...good times together, and he would never forget that. "I think I loved her immediately."

"And she turned you?"

He gazed at her and squeezed her foot tenderly. "Very good, yes. And then I returned to my mother. You see, I wanted to live my eternity with the two women I loved most."

She nodded her understanding. Didn't she know what he meant? Or perhaps she did. Sharon loved...intensely, like he did. Maybe she understood the...possibilities. "I turned her, but then she...was different. She said terrible things, so I...I staked her. I killed my own mother. Twice."

She stroked his cheek. This was a police officer he was confessing to. Did it matter his crimes were over a century old and in another country? She simply kept soothing him.

"Anyway, that was the beginning of the end for me. My grandsire Angelus." He snorted. "He goes by Angel now. Trying to distance himself from his awful past. Anyway, Angelus taunted me. Shagged Dru in front of me. Made fun of my name, my poetry, even my appearance. And I kept trying to live up to his image of vampire. But then something strange happened."

"What?"

"Angelus got his soul. It was part of a curse. He killed a gypsy girl and her family made him pay for it. Dearly. So, he didn't want to play with us anymore, and then I started leading the raids, and by that point, I'd become known as Spike because of my use of railroad spikes against my victims." She let out a small cry of shock. "Sorry, pet. I don't mean to upset you."

She waved him off. "I wanted to hear. And I'm grateful you're telling me."

"Anyway, I killed my first slayer."

"Slayer?"

"Yeah, every generation there's one girl in all the world born with the power to hunt and kill the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer."

Her eyes lit up, like she was putting the pieces together. "You say that as if you've said it a hundred times before. Does it have any connection to the Scoobies?"

He nodded. "Yes, Buffy was the leader of the Scoobies. She was supposed to be my third slayer. Instead-"

"You fell in love with her."

"Yeah. But not right away. I went to Sunnydale to kill her. Then I met up with her boyfriend, Angel, and I fought against them. And then Angel lost his soul, and joined my team, but he was a bit of a loon, so I sided with Buffy, and it was a pretty big mess. She saved the world. Yada, yada, yada. I was with Dru, but she dumped me. And I returned to Sunnydale, became a military experiment, couldn't hunt humans anymore, joined forces with Buffy, fell for her, tried to attack her, felt bad about it, and decided to get my own soul back."

She seemed to...take it all in. There was no judgement in her face, just acceptance. Not quite understanding, but...empathy. "And Buffy?"

He nodded slightly. "We parted on good terms."

"And now you work with Angel, and you're going to save the world tonight?"

"I hope so. We may actually end it in the process."

"Let's hope you don't."

He reached across to stroke her hair. "You...give me hope."

She gave him the smile that said she was ready for anything. "I invite you in, Spike."

He snorted. "You did that already, luv."

She grinned. "I didn't think another time would hurt."

"Not at all." And then he was on her, his mouth and hands were everywhere. He couldn't get enough of her. And she...responded. He pulled back to look at her. "You sure you're okay shagging a vamp?"

She hmmed. "Are you okay sleeping with a married woman?"

That was a new development. Not that he was surprised. A woman like her would have been snatched up. Some lucky bugger too. There were probably a few kids with her hair and eyes. Only he didn't smell anyone on her. Just himself and her. He smirked. "I think I can live with it."

He lowered his head down to hers. "Where's the lucky bugger anyway?"

"Las Vegas, as far as I know."

He kissed her. "Long time apart then?"

She moaned. "Decades."

He nipped her collarbone. "You're sounding like me, luv."

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her. Possessive she was. He liked that. Made him feel...wanted. "I don't want to talk about him anymore."

He was happy to comply.