A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, they really make my day and encourage me to keep writing :o)


Buffy prowled through the shadow-strewn graveyard, senses on high alert. A cool night breeze blew past, bringing the scent of death to her nose. She paused, turning her head, seeking out her prey. Some instinct pointed her to a stand of trees, dark and foreboding, and she crept towards it. The leaves rustled; her grip on the stake tightened. Every nerve, every sinew, every instinct was poised, ready to strike…

'Buffy!'

She whirled around, heart thumping. Riley stood there in the moonlight, smiling at her.

'What are you doing here?' she asked, voice low.

'I didn't realise you were here, thought you'd be scoping out Restfield first.'

'I didn't mean, "what are you doing here", I meant "why are you out here at all?"'

'I just decided to – duck!'

Buffy dropped, and Riley's stake flew past her head. She heard a snarl and turned to see dust settling on the ground.

A wave of irritation hit her. She knew she should be thankful for the help, and it did have its upside that her boyfriend was a military super-commando. Still, this was her gig, not his; she realised that she was a little jealous of him horning in on her sacred destiny.

Buffy stood. 'Thanks,' she muttered, feeling like she needed to say it.

'Sure,' Riley smiled, falling into step beside her as she set off again through the gravestones. After a moment of stony silence he asked hesitantly, 'Buffy – did I do something wrong?'

'No,' she insisted. 'I just…I'm not too hot on the idea of you patrolling alone. If anything happened to you…'

'I can take care of myself, Buffy.'

'I know you can, I just – wait, do you hear that?'

From somewhere not too far away, Buffy could hear scuffling. She hurried towards the noise, emerging into a moonlit clearing. She was just in time to see Spike dust a young vampire, still wearing its burial clothes. His face was lit up with glee, and Buffy could see the sparkle in his eyes from where she stood.

Spike turned, duster whirling around his legs, to the other vampire creeping up behind him. 'Come on then, matey,' he called out, 'let's have ourselves a rumble!'

The vampire snarled and charged him; Spike stepped gracefully out of the way, staking it almost casually as it stumbled past.

'Now that,' Spike declared to the air, 'was fun!'

'You have a sick sense of fun, Spike,' Buffy said, hands on hips.

'Which is such an unusual trait in a vampire,' Spike deadpanned.

'What are you doing?' Buffy asked, moving towards him.

'Just getting the violent urges outta my system,' Spike said. 'A bloke's gotta release the tension somehow, Slayer – unless you know a better way?' He smirked, looking her up and down, one hand tucking itself into his belt. Buffy blushed, eyes widening. Her mind whispered how good his lips had felt against her throat…

'Buffy?' called Riley behind her.

Buffy tore her eyes away from Spike's belt. 'Over here!' she called eagerly.

'Spike,' Riley said flatly, emerging from the trees. 'What are you up to?'

'"Up to?" You've got a suspicious mind, mate,' Spike said, pointing a finger. ''m not "up to" anything, just helping the Slayer take down a few nasties.'

'Buffy doesn't need your help,' Riley said, just as Buffy opened her mouth to reply. She couldn't help glaring up at him, quickly turning it on Spike as she realised what she was doing.

'Oh! I saw that!' Spike crowed. 'Looks like neither boy's entirely welcome. You should take him home, Slayer, before somebody hurts his precious self.'

Buffy saw Riley's anger and stepped in between them. 'Spike, when I need your help, I'll… well, I'll kill myself. Until that day, stay out of my way.'

'Fine, be that way,' Spike said, backing off a few steps. 'But one of these days, Slayer, you an' me are gonna go toe-to-toe, and you're gonna regret that attitude.' He whirled around melodramatically, barely avoided face-planting a tree he hadn't realised was right behind him, and stalked away.

Buffy sighed. 'If only he wasn't a chiphead…'

'Yeah,' Riley agreed, following her towards the exit. 'You know, it might be worth keeping a closer eye on him. I mean, you never know what he might be plotting.'

Buffy snorted. 'Spike? I'm really not worried about his plotting – Spike's idea of a well-thought out plan is deciding what brand of bourbon to steal before he gets to the liquor store. Besides, he can't hurt me himself, and who's he going to get to be his accomplice – Harmony?'

Riley laughed. 'Well, when you put it like that, I guess you've got it covered.' He swung his arms, antsy. 'Listen, d'you wanna head over to Restfield now?'

'Nah,' Buffy said, emerging onto the main road. 'We'd only run into Spike again, and I don't think I can take two helpings in one night.'

'Sure?' Riley asked. 'I just feel like doing another sweep, y'know? For some reason I have a lot of tension to burn off tonight.'

A bloke's gotta release the tension somehow, Slayer… Spike's face swam into her mind; that knowing smirk, that glint in his too-blue eyes. Buffy kicked the image into submission, stuffed it into a dark corner of her mind, and turned to Riley. 'Now that,' she smiled, determined to banish Spike from her brain, 'I can help you with.'


Joyce had just finished chopping the last tomato when she heard a knock at the front door. She headed down the hallway, wiping her hands on a towel, and opened the door to see Giles on the porch, arms loaded with books.

'Rupert,' she greeted him with a warm smile. 'Please, come in.'

'Thank you,' Giles said. He paused in the foyer and said, 'May I put these down…?'

'Oh, of course – um, you can put them in here,' Joyce said, gesturing to the coffee table in the living room.

Giles dumped the pile of books, catching one just as it was about to slide to the floor. 'These are for Buffy,' he explained, 'for her new training programme. I doubt she'll have space in her dorm room, so I thought perhaps I could leave them here for her?'

'Um, sure,' Joyce said, eyeing the hefty tomes. 'Buffy will be…well, she'll be crestfallen, probably.' She paused. 'Rupert, I was just about to have lunch…I don't suppose you'd care to join me?'

'Oh, well, I shouldn't like to impose…' Giles began.

'No imposition,' Joyce interrupted. 'Unless you've already made plans…'

'No, uh, no plans,' Giles said, smiling. 'Alright, lunch would be wonderful. Thank you.'

'Good,' Joyce smiled. 'Can I take your coat?'

'Yes, thank you,' Giles said, shrugging off his jacket to reveal a casual grey knitted sweater underneath. It suits him, Joyce mused, then quickly dismissed the thought and hung the jacket up. 'Come on through to the kitchen,' she said. 'It's just chicken salad, I'm afraid, with some fancy-sounding bread from the delicatessen.'

'That sounds lovely,' Giles said politely, following behind her.

'So tell me, Rupert,' Joyce said, switching the kettle on to boil, 'how's the shop coming along?'

'Oh, it's starting to take shape,' he said. 'May I help with anything?'

'Sure, you can cut some bread for me,' Joyce smiled. 'There's a bread knife in that block.'

'Yes, it's all starting to look rather good,' Giles went on, selecting a knife and beginning to slice carefully. 'Xander has been helping me to fit some new display units, and I must say he's done a marvellous job.' He smiled, eyes twinkling. 'Don't tell him I said that, though.'

Joyce laughed. 'Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.'

Giles smiled at her, warm and relaxed, and her heart gave a tiny little skip. She turned away hastily, retrieving the bowl of salad leaves from the fridge. It wasn't the first time lately that she'd thought of Giles with a more-than-friendly connotation, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it. Her traitorous mind picked that moment to give her a sensory recollection of how his mouth felt against hers, his hard body pressing her into the hood of a police cruiser, his hands coasting across her skin…

'Joyce?'

'Nothing!' she almost yelped, embarrassed. 'Oh, I'm sorry…just spaced out for a second.' She turned to set the salad bowl on the counter and suddenly, jarringly, her vision blurred.

'Joyce, are you alright?' Giles asked, moving to her side. The look of concern on his face swam in and out of focus; the floor seemed to shift under her feet. She heard the sound of breaking glass, and realised that she'd dropped the salad bowl.

Suddenly the floor was pitching towards her, and everything went black.