A/N:I wanted to have this up wayyyy earlier but got a bad case of writer's block. T_T So I trudged through it and managed to cough this up. 3 Hope you guys enjoy!

In the cemetery the two Slayers, well one Slayer and one former-Slayer, sauntered around with stakes in their hands. It had been a few days since the "Hector" incident as it was now referred to as and despite being questioned by every single Scooby member Ayla had refrained from telling them what Hector had told her. It annoyed them initially and they seemed to feel betrayed that she wouldn't tell them, as if she didn't trust them.

"Look, Buffy… You know I don't want to hide the truth from you. But if I tell you, I risk you all trying something to prevent it. You can't change the future," Ayla piped up, looking at her blonde counterpart with a hopeful expression on her face. I just hope I can. She thought to herself, making sure that her expression didn't change.

Buffy gave a small, forced smile. "I know, it's just terrible knowing that something bad is going to happen. I don't want to see any of us die or an unsuspected apocalypse," Buffy said, tilting her head to the side as she thought. "Not that we know about all apocalypses before the rituals begin but still. I want to stop this thing."

"It's not our job to interfere with the future."

"I thought you were going to fix it?" Buffy retorted, stopping to accentuate her point.

"I know. I am upset about it but I don't think I can go around and changing their plans. I have to do my job," Ayla said ruefully.

"And I have to do mine and my job is to save people!" Buffy said heatedly.

The two girls stood and stared at each other for a few moments, both trying to take in what was going on. They both wanted the same thing, although Ayla had begun to deny it. They wanted things to stay as they were with no problems, no deaths. They wanted everything peachy. But since they had both been Slayers, they both knew how things would end. Somebody would get hurt and somebody would be left in the shadows.

"Oh, before I forget, Xander and Anya want you to come to their wedding that's on Friday," Buffy suddenly said, breaking the silence.

"They're getting married?" Ayla wasn't surprised but taken aback by the sudden invitation.

"Yeah, a nice wedding with the whole family and friends gathering together. They didn't invite you earlier because… We didn't know you'd actually stick around," Buffy said with a weary smile.

Ayla nodded, understanding what she meant. "Groovy, count me in."

"Groovy, really?" Buffy asked with a look of disbelief on her face. Who says that kind of stuff?

"For your information, groovy was 'the word.' You weren't cool if you didn't use it," Ayla said with a grin as the two resumed walking. Buffy couldn't help but laugh at her comment. "Well, we just say cool now, groovy is sort of out of style, since, you know, the seventies," she commented. Ayla nudged her with her elbow as if she were reminding her of something. "We used cool a lot too, but I think groovy has more class."

"How does groovy have more class? Cool is way better. It just flows, you know?" Buffy defended. The two girls looked at each other before laughing. "This is ridiculous, we're arguing about a word!" Buffy stated and Ayla nodded in agreement. Buffy couldn't help but think it was funny; no one else could get her to squabble over something like which was classier, cool or groovy. This girl was able to bring out things that few others were able to bring out, probably because she understood Buffy to some degree. She understood what being a Slayer was like and she had died- technically. Heck, she had even slept with a vampire although hers didn't turn evil.

Ayla slowed down when she was at a familiar spot. The spot where Spike had interrupted the Slayer bonding time. A small smirk crossed on to her face as her mind wandered through the events of that night. She had been angry at him at the time and for a long time afterwards. Until he had managed to comfort her, she hated him more than anything in this world. Now, she wanted to go see him. Not for the physical bit of course (although that wasn't that bad) but to thank him. He had done good, helping her get some release that night.

"You know what, why don't you go home early? Have a girl's night or something," Ayla suddenly said, looking at Buffy who seemed surprised by this suggestion. "I mean, I can finish up here if there is anything and I want to get to Willy's. Haven't had some whiskey in ages," she added with a smile. Oh, if she could get her hands on some more whiskey everything would feel so much better. No more thinking about them dying, no more feeling guilty for sleeping with Spike or not being able to do anything about the future events. It would be perfect.

"That would be… Nice. I'm sure Dawn and Willow will be glad to see me." Buffy knew when to not ask more questions and she had a strong feeling that this was one of those times. If someone was hankering hard for whiskey, there must be some reason behind it. Perhaps she really doesn't want to do her job. "I'll see you tomorrow then," she said, reluctantly waving as she began walking away. Leaving patrol didn't feel quite right and fair but Ayla obviously didn't want her around, for one reason or another.

As soon as Buffy was out of sight Ayla began trying to trace her tracks. She would know the crypt where Spike stayed at in an instant if she saw it but as far as she could see, she didn't see a crypt. Feeling frustrated and impulsive, Ayla kicked a headstone, knocking it over. "Oh god," she mumbled, rushing down to her knees to fix its position.

"Careful, you're gonna piss a lot of blokes off if you knock down their headstones like that."

Ayla jumped to her feat and turned around swiftly with her dagger in hand, ready to fight. Her nose automatically scrunched at the sight of Spike and she slide her dagger back into the sheath. "Careful, you're gonna get staked by some chick if you startle her like that," she said in a mocking tone and a bad imitation of a British accent. She didn't show any joy at the sight of him but she was relieved that she didn't have to keep on looking for his crypt.

"Big words there, Slayer," he said, making sure to emphasize the word slayer.

"I didn't come to fight," Ayla said, standing akimbo.

"Well, look at you little miss determined!" Spike teased before chuckling.

"Cool your chops before I stake you," Ayla warned, receiving a raised brow and a questioning look from Spike. "Shut up," Ayla clarified, translating the phrase for him. "I was looking for you. I uhm, couldn't find our crypt."

"Couldn't find my crypt so you decided to flip a headstone?" Spike questioned with an amused look on his face. Unfortunately it was wiped clean off when her gray eyes drilled into him. "Geez, Slayer, lay off the venomous look," he muttered under his breath, well aware of the fact that she would be able to hear him. Ayla scowled before coming so close to him that they were practically face-to-face. Or well, face-to-chest at least. Ayla grabbed his shirt and pulled him so that he would bend down to her level.

"I wanted to thank you for the other night. I probably would have wrecked a lot of things hadn't you come along and stopped me," she said, letting go of Spike and pushing him rather lightly. "But if you're going to be a drag, I guess I should just drop it, right?" she asked, cocking a brow. Spike, balled over from the fact she had pulled him down, no more than a couple of inches between them, searched in his mind for a solution. What did she mean? Didn't she thank him by telling him that she was going to thank him?

"No, I mean. I didn't know," he managed to choke out the words, finally deciding on how to handle the situation. "You can thank me all you want, Slayer," he said grinning cockily. Ayla stepped back, her red cheeks shaded by the darkness. "This is what they were talking about. An egocentric vampire who likes to think of himself as high and mighty. I honestly couldn't recall you being like this around me, ever, except last time, right before we fought," she hissed.

"Like you're any better!" Spike exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "You like to pretend you're so bloody cool with everything and then you go around letting it all flow when no one's there to see! And when you let someone in, just for a moment, you get all hostile when you realize that you might just care for someone."

Their last encounter hadn't been like that but Spike reasoned that it must have been because she had fallen asleep. Before that, every time they laid eyes upon each other there would be bickering of some sort, always the angry little Slayer he had left panting on the ground back at Woodstock.

"What do you know about me, huh?" Ayla challenged.

"After leaving Woodstock you locked yourself in your room and you barely spoke to your family. When you did, you shouted and screamed until Hector relieved you," Spike started, tilting his head and waiting for a reaction. He had done his fair share of researching, which included speaking to a P.I. who worked for her mother back in the 60s. "Then you proceeded to simply relieve your victims and sleeping with demons and vampires on the side." He took a step closer, hoping to intimidate her. She showed no amusing reaction, merely shock. "The few people you actually met more than once you would beat to a bloody pulp eventually, usually drunk out of your wits."

"You… How the hell do you know this?" Ayla asked angrily. Spike shrugged. "Just did a little asking around, that's all. There's not a demon bar in California that doesn't have at least one person in it who knows your name. You're a bloody celebrity," Spike explained.

"They talk about me?" Ayla asked, ignoring the fact that Spike seemed to be inquiring about her. Her lower lip quivered as he nodded. "Is it bad?" There was a look of utter dismay on her face. He couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. He didn't think she would have taken something like this so seriously, especially coming from him.

"No, it's mostly good. They say you're strong, compassionate towards victims and you can drink barrels of whiskey," he said with a sympathetic smile. "Worst thing I've heard about you is that you're a crazy bitch but that ain't so bad, is it?"

"I suppose it could be worse," Ayla said with a frown. "I could tell you all the bad things I've heard about you but I suppose hearing that would only make you happy, since you're evil and stuff." They both laughed at her comment, knowing that it was pretty much true. Spike basked in the glory of being evil, although he had done a few good things that made people question which side he was on.

"So, how about some whiskey? Got bottles to no end in my crypt," Spike said, offering Ayla an apologetic smile. She returned it, having a feeling that he was perhaps apologizing by offering her whiskey, something he knew she liked. "Sounds good," she said as they began to head to his crypt.

Buffy glanced at the clock before looking at Willow with a worried look. It had been nearly two hours since she had left the cemetery and there was still no sign of Ayla. But then again, she was going to go to Willy's and drown her sorrow.

"I'm sure she's fine, she was a Slayer too you know," Willow said with a knowing look before grabbing some popcorn. The girls had camped out in the living room and watched movies and talked. Now that Dawn had gone off to bed, Willow and Buffy were finally able to talk about whatever. "So how are things going with demongirl? You know, patrolling and stuff?"

"Willow, it's rude to call her demongirl!" Buffy said jokingly and the two shared a giggle. "It's going well. She's pretty helpful out in the field and she likes the fight. It's definitely nice to be able to relax a little," Buffy said, throwing her head back in joy. "She definitely knows far more demons on sight than I do. I guess that that's what decades of… erhm, hanging out with them does to you," Buffy said, avoiding mentioning the fact that Ayla had been notorious for lashing out at demons, and not in the violent way.

"Speaking of… erhm," Willow said, playfully mimicking Buffy's avoidance. "Don't you think it's a little weird, what happened the other day?" She didn't wait for an answer before clarifying. "With Spike."

Buffy nodded, obviously distraught by the thought too. "I don't get it. How would he be able to calm her down? Last time I checked, they hated each other." She thought back to that one time in the cemetery when she had left Ayla to fight off Spike herself and come back hours later. How does somebody go from that to… being comforted? And Dawn said…

"Oh! Willow! I forgot to tell you, with all the commotion about Xander's wedding," Buffy said, remembering that she hadn't told Willow yet about what Dawn had told her. "That night, Dawn came downstairs a little before us. She didn't tell me right away because she figured I'd be mad for her staying up," Buffy began but quickly stopped because she realized she was about to begin rambling. "Apparently she was sleeping on him, well, his chest and he was," Buffy paused to make a face. "Caressing her hair and staring at her."

"That doesn't sound like hate," Willow said with a confused expression.

"No, it doesn't. And she actually said that he had calmed her down."

"Maybe it's more complicated between them than we know," Willow suggested with hesitant.

"I can see how there can be anything to complicate things. They slept together, he tried to kill her, she comes back and they fight. End of story," Buffy said nonchalantly.

"I don't know Buffy… Maybe they have a connection. Maybe he understands her or something."

Both girls looked at each other before laughing lightly. "It's silly, I know, but you never know," Willow said. Buffy nodded in agreement. "At least Spike has stopped stalking me and talking about how he loves me," Buffy said with a sneer. He was really starting to creep her out after they had kissed. It just… Wasn't right and he hadn't seemed to realize it. "That really was creepy," Willow said through the chewing of the popcorn.

"But I mean, he shouldn't just stop just because she's here," Buffy said, revealing the fact that her ego was bruised. He had counted the days that she had been dead and he would follow her around and now suddenly, he doesn't give a damn? "I mean, not that I want him to keep on going, it's just insulting."

"Buffy, you know how men can be. They jump at the first opportunity to get over a lost cause," Willow said. Admittedly, she was no expert and she had no proof of this theory but it would be what she would do. But not really. She thought to herself and she began, frustrated, to argue with herself whether this statement was actually true.

"Will, that's ridiculous. How is he going to get over loving me just because she's here? They hate each other," Buffy stated, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn.

"Then why hadn't we heard about his 'awesome' encounter with Ayla before? Wouldn't he be proud that he stabbed a Slayer?"

"Ashamed that he didn't kill her."

Both girls went silent for a moment, letting the theories soak in. They dismissed it quickly, deciding that it wasn't something they should bother to talk about. "I am so jealous of Anya and Xander. They get to get married and have… semi-normal lives," Buffy commented, grabbing a fistful of popcorn. "Amen to that, sister," Willow added, half-heartedly, her mind wandering towards Tara.

"And then I said to him, buddy, that's the Burrower talking. Dude was so embarrassed that he just walked right out of the bar," Ayla said, causing both her and Spike to both go into a fit of laughter. Both of them had dug well into his supply of whiskey, leaving four bottles lying around the floor of his crypt. "Darrow, you're one hell of a demon. I hadn't heard about this snarky side of you," Spike said, making sure to steer clear of calling her a woman.

"I'm not very often snarky until, well, post-whatever they do for fun," she replied, the laughter from her earlier punch line fading into a soft chuckle. She was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and her arms down on the ground to support her. Opposite her, sitting by the foot of the living chair, Spike was sitting comfortably at her level.

"I think I should get going," Ayla said, getting ready to stand up. This time she knew for a fact that she had been away for more than a couple of hours and the longer she was away the more likely it would be that somebody was waiting for her at Revello Drive, worried about her safety. She wobbled when she stood up and had to place her hand on the TV to support herself. "God, I haven't been this drunk since the eighties," she commented, running a hand through her hair.

"Leaving, now?" Spike suddenly popped up, more coordinate and in control of his body than she was. Ayla nodded quietly, still trying to regain her composure.

"Tell me, Darrow, how do you plan on fighting the baddies if you run into them on your way home? You can hardly stand on your two feet!" Spike said as he went over to her and helped support her by holding one of her arms by the elbow. This was something he hadn't really expected. He had seen her drink before but never had he seen her in a condition beyond slightly tipsy. Now she was border lining on drunk. No wonder really, the girl had a lot on her mind.

"I could fight them if I wanted," Ayla said with a determined look on her face. Spike laughed, thankful for the fact that at least she was comprehensible.

"I'm not saying you can't. But I don't think you'd win either," he smiled wryly.

"You know what I think, William?" Ayla asked, looking up so she could see Spike's face. "I think you're trying to get me to stay the night."

"Slayer-"

"No, I am talking," Ayla crossed her arms and a few moments of silence took over. It was clear that she had no intention of talking and he didn't want to be interrupted in telling her what to do. After all, she was tipsy and rather strong. He would rather not have his crypt destroyed by an angry girl who had a little bit to drink.

Ayla took the decision, after having thought over it for a while. She turned around quickly, causing her to stumble a few steps forward. "Don't," she instructed Spike as he had reached out to help her. She walked unsteadily to the stone that covered the hole which led to the cozy little bedroom he had stashed downstairs. She pushed it without much effort with the heel of her foot and disappeared into the hole. Unnerved by the way she seemed to disappear into the hole; Spike followed her down, only to be greeted with the sight of her lying on his bed.

"You know, you would think that, by making you a rue demon they would give you a crack at immortality," Ayla suddenly said with a thoughtful look on her face. "Like vengeance demons, live until you get yourself killed, you know?" She didn't even glance at Spike who had firmly planted himself on the bed.

"That's not the point of a rue demon and you know it," he said, reluctantly taking part in the conversation. He knew all that mumbo-jumbo about what their purpose was and, even though it was a good purpose and all, it was such a stupid "honorable" thing to do.

"I wonder how we die. Will we die just like humans? As if we never really were anything else?"

"Not in demon form, pet. Demon for you can't die from any weapon a human would die from."

Ayla shifted in the bed so that he head was on the pillow. Earlier that evening, on their second bottle of whiskey, she had decided that perhaps tonight she would let him in a little. Prove him wrong and show him that she really could show a little emotion without getting all violent. "Ayla, come on, let's get you home. That's where you wanted to go, right?" Spike suddenly said, not wanting her to wake up in his bed the morning after, angry at him for sleeping in the same bed. But she waved her hand in a manner that suggested that she just didn't care.

"I'm fine with staying here. I don't really want to get again," she mumbled, already half asleep. Knowing that there wasn't much else he could do, Spike got ready to up and leave, maybe watch some telly. But then a small hand grabbed at his wrist. He looked at the small redhead who was curled up on his bed. His bloody bed. He should have thrown her right out of it the moment she touched it, like he would have a couple of years back.

But there was something that happened around her. He didn't feel like he was supposed to be evil when she saw. No, it felt as if he was supposed to be good, like he owed it to her. He threw off his duster and boots before climbing into the bed. "I should be beating you for this," he muttered, allowing her to cuddle up to him. "Don't go around thinking you can come into my bed every night, pet. It's not a bloody motel," he kept on rambling, finding more and more things to tell her, trying to convince himself that this didn't feel right.

Ayla hadn't been to a wedding since her Uncle Tom got married back in 1965 so this was definitely a surprise. There were demons all over the place, mingling with Xander's family and passing off as circus folk. She could smell the regrets and frankly, she didn't like the smell of many of them. Lots of small ones piled up and drowned with alcohol or repressed. Her nose scrunched up in disgust of the majority of the regrets. Impure, stupid and selfish. To make matters worse, she could feel that Willow was starting to feel a bit better which mean that Hector's promise of her and Tara getting back together must be close and that meant that… Ayla shook her head. All she had to do now was try to prevent this wedding from turning into a disaster.

"Smelling all their flukes, luv?"

Ayla turned around and couldn't help but crack a smile when she saw the bleach blonde vampire. Unlike her, he was dressed in his usual casual outfit. "Way to show respect," she said, indicating that he was underdressed. He looked over her outfit, a colorful purple dress with lilac flower designs on it. "Way to outshine everyone in the room," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Ayla asked, taken by surprise by the comment.

"Your skin, you're so bloody pale that the light is bouncing off of you," Spike retorted quickly, not thinking about his reply. It would be a damn mess if he ever admitted anything that indicated affection or want. "Get a tan," he said with a cocky smile, only for it to disappear when he noticed the look on her face. She looked hurt.

"Says the vampire," she said in a rather loud tone, causing Spike to look around in unease. "Shhhh, keep it down, pet. I don't think people would be happy to have a vampire hanging around at a wedding," he said sharply. For a moment Ayla glared at him before turning around and strutting off in a completely different direction. Bloody hell Spike, can't even compliment the girl without lashing out. He thought to himself bitterly, conflicted over whether he should be good or evil. "I'm soddin' evil," he murmured as he went to the bar.

"Didn't affect me," Ayla maundered as she nodded around to various guests. She smiled when she saw Xander enter the room. It pained her to know that he would leave Anya at the altar and she had a feeling that there was little she would be able to do to stop him from doing it. They looked so happy together and they were in perfect sync, well, as perfect sync as a human and ex-demon could be in.

She watched him intently, watching as a group began to form around him. Then she saw him, an old "man" who seemed rather keen on getting Xander's attention. After finally getting his attention the man pulls him aside violently. Being at almost the other side of the room the conversation was inaudible.

Suddenly it was as if a very strong regret appeared out of nowhere, causing Ayla to stumble backwards and then finally fall. She was dizzy and her stomach felt like it was about to explode.

"Ayla, you okay?" she heard a familiar voice ask. She looked up to see Buffy by her side and soon enough both Dawn and Spike had joined too. Ayla looked back, hoping to Xander but he was gone and so was the old man. "No, but I'll be fine," she managed to choke out the words and she stood up with the help of Buffy. "Go and look for Xander, please?" she asked and everybody seemed to look at her confused. "Just go. I think it's important."

With those words both Dawn and Buffy scattered to search for Xander and the only one left by Ayla's side was Spike. "You really don't look good, pet," he said, his brows furrowing with wonder. She had seemed fine just a few moments ago and not it looked as if she was going to burst any moment. Ayla didn't answer him; instead she headed directly to the bathroom.

In a matter of minutes her stomach had been emptied of her breakfast. She scowled, standing up from the toilet which had a portion of it broken because, in pain, Ayla had punched it. "That'll come out of my pocket," she muttered resentfully as she went to the sink and rinsed her mouth with tap water.

What the hell was that? That wasn't normal regret… It was unnatural.

As soon as she opened the bathroom door she was greeted with the sight of Spike. "What is it?" he inquired, looking a bit worried. Ayla shook her head. "I can't fix this one Spike… It's that old man," she mumbled, gently rubbing her stomach in circular motions. "Fix this? What are you talking about?" Spike asked. Ayla looked confused for a moment before remembering that he hadn't known everything. As far as she remembered, she only talked about Tara dying.

"Hector… told me," she began, taking a large breath. "He told me that I would have to reap Xander too because he would leave Anya at the altar." Her eyes were focused on the floor, purposely avoiding Spike's gaze. "What? Why would he tell you about that? I don't see how that has anything to do with Willow and the last time I checked she was the reason why you were here!" Spike exclaimed, sounding a bit offended.

"He wanted me to take Xander too. Expand a little."

"He can piss off! How does he expect you to take both Xander and Willow? And let Tara die? Is he trying to ruin Buffy and Dawn's lives?"

"I'm not going to take them. I won't,"

"You know what the punishment for neglecting to reap people is, don't you?"

"I do."

They were both looking down, both melancholic about what lied ahead. Neglecting to do any form of relieving resulted in immediate death and an eternity in one hell dimension or another. Perhaps it was the reason why Ayla hadn't approached any potential victim before, not like she had approached Willow. She had grown to appreciate both her and Xander and just about everyone else in their little gang.

"It wasn't real, whatever that man showed to Xander," Ayla suddenly piped up.

"What wasn't?"

"He pulled something out of his pocket… An orb or something, and I was hit with massive regret. I'm talking about impulse-murder kind of regret. It was so strong that I would have felt pure bliss hadn't it been fake. Instead it made me lose my breakfast," Ayla said with a hopeless look on her face.

"Maybe we can get to Xander, before it's too late. Save the poor man from a big mistake," Spike suggested.

"No, it's too late. He feels the regret and he regrets it now, before it even happens," Ayla said as the two wandered back into the main hall where everybody was ready for the ceremony. In silence the two sat down on the back and began to wait patiently for the show to begin, although Ayla had a feeling that it wouldn't.

Then suddenly the feeling of hunger, of want to reap began to dwindle and Ayla look at Spike nervously.

"He's gone."

She frowned, angry at herself for not being able to prevent this and anxious because since this had happened, that meant that Tara's death wasn't far ahead. I am so going to show them. She thought bitterly as she crossed her arms and looked at Spike. Seemingly understanding her thoughts Spike nodded and smiled.