Disclaimer: This chapter contains references to the episode "Reptile Boy", 2x05, written and directed by David Greenwalt, originally broadcast October 13, 1997. All direct dialogue is courtesy of , transcripts provided by Alexander Thompson. I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All recognizable characters, dialogue, plot points, settings, etc. are copywrite Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Television Network.


8.

Buffy decided to give this thing with Angel one last go. Clearly there was something between them, but if it was never going to pan out she had better things to spend her time on. She was young. She had prospects. She had a blue eyed, soulful, soulless vampire to figure out, for one thing. If she ever saw him again. She was pretty sure he was still around, but he was keeping a low profile. Which meant that he probably wasn't killing, or feeding at all, actually, and the possibility intrigued her to no end.

So. One more chance at this thing with Angel and if he wasn't game she was throwing in the towel. She didn't have time to decipher two Vamp/Man mysteries, and, frankly, the paradox that was Spike seemed more interesting than whatever secrets brooding and cryptic might be hiding. Besides, slayer, vampire, it probably wasn't a good idea. In fact, the only reason she was even considering it was that Willow was all yay! with the living vicariously through Buffy's love life – and right now she wasn't providing much vicarious action

And it was just coffee anyway. It wasn't like they were going to date or anything. Because slayers didn't date the undead. At least, she didn't think they did. She hadn't read the handbook and Giles had never really said.

Conveniently Angel chose that night to show up on patrol once more. Maybe it was fate?

Apparently there was blood on the bracelet she'd found the other day. Well, she found it in a cemetery in Sunnydale, land of the mouth of Hell, so color her not surprised. She moved right past that and on to more important matters.

She breathed deeply, calming herself. She could so do this. She could ask him out for coffee. He was just a guy. And a vampire. And, like two hundred and twenty-something years older than her. But he was just a guy.

She sighed. "I-I was . . . just thinking, wouldn't it be funny some time to see each other when it wasn't a blood thing?" She smiled, but it was short lived as she realized what she'd said. Funny? How exactly would it be funny? "Not funny ha, ha," she quickly explained.

Angel looked down at her skeptically. And, wow, had he always been that tall? "What are you saying, you wanna have a date?"

"No."

"You don't wanna have a date?"

Buffy was flustered. Why did he have to use the D-word? Didn't he know how hard this was for her? And, God, he was the guy. Shouldn't he be asking her out? "Who said 'date'? I-I-I never said 'date'."

Angel was understandably unconvinced. "Right. You just wanna have coffee or something."

Buffy perked up hopefully. Now this was on the right track. "Coffee?"

Angel looked pained. "I knew this was gonna happen."

"What? What do you think is happening?" Angel had that look again. The same one Giles wore so often. The one that said "I'm an adult, and you're just a child, and so you're not going to understand and we'd all be better off if you didn't ask and just did as I say."

"You're sixteen years old. I'm two hundred and forty-one."

Buffy scowled. "I've done the math." And, like, not five minutes ago even. She knew he was way older than she was.

"You don't know what you're doing, you don't know what you want . . ."

The patronizing thing was really starting to irritate her. No, she couldn't possibly know what she wanted. She was only sixteen and it wasn't like as the Slayer she was probably going to die in a year or two anyway. Her life was more than half over; shouldn't she be allowed to make some of her own decision?

"Oh no, I think I do. I want out of this conversation." She moved to pass him by, angry.

Angel deliberately put himself in her path, bumping up against her. "Listen, if we date you and I both know one thing's gonna lead to another."

One thing was going to lead to another? Like what? Like vamping mid-kiss? Yeah, been there got that memo. And how dare he say that to her like she was some hormone addled bimbo who couldn't control herself when he was the one stealing kisses in bedrooms and getting all pushy protective! "One thing already has led to another. You think it's a little late to be reading me a warning label?"

"I'm just trying to protect you. This could get outta control."

"Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer. She drew in a startled breath. He was so close. And so not happy.

"This isn't some fairy tale," he said harshly. "When I kiss you, you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after."

Buffy felt tears pooling in her eyes. "No. When you kiss me I wanna die." She didn't give him time to respond, pulling free and running away. Screw patrol, she was going home. She was going to go home and tear all the pages out of her diary that even mentioned tall, dark, and patronizing.

Well, at least that solved the mystery of where that relationship was going. Clearly it wasn't. And if he was going to be like that she wasn't sure she wanted it to anyway.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

~.~.~.~

She hadn't actually had any interest in attending the Crestwood College Delta Beta whatever fraternity party when Cordelia's crush's friend had invited her the day before. She didn't really have an interest now either, even if Cordelia was trying to butter her up (and, ewww, where did these disgusting phrases come from?) and sounding like she'd just die if Buffy didn't agree to go with her. And why would some stupid college boys care if Buffy Summers attended their little party?

But it wasn't as though she had anything better to do now that she and Angel were definitely not going to become an item. Not that they would have been an item, per se, because Angel was all about a low-profile, but they weren't going to be a thing, and she so wasn't thinking about Angel anymore. Not ever again!

Before she realized what she was doing she agreed to go with Cordelia that night.

She almost took it back when she realized what she'd said. But then she decided: why not? That guy, Tom, was it? had been kinda cute. And he'd treated her like an equal, unlike some guys she knew. She'd go to this party and she'd have fun and maybe even find a new guy to not date, and that would show Angel. Not that this was about showing Angel, because she so didn't care what Angel thought. It was about being a teenager. About letting go and having a life for once. That was all it was. And if Tom happened to come along with that package, well, everyone had their cross to bear and she would cheerfully bear hers.

Willow and Xander were slightly wigged and probably a little jealous.

By the time she'd lied to Giles and dealt with Cordelia's "instructions" for the night she almost regretted her decision. When she got inside and realized the only refreshments available seemed to be twenty-seven varieties of booze? She definitely did. But she couldn't exactly back out now. Besides, it might not be so bad. Tom was around here somewhere, and he seemed really nice.

She set off in search of him.

~.~.~.~

Spike snubbed his freshly lit ciggy as the little slayer emerged from her house, grateful for the enormous tree that allowed him to remain hidden from her view. Pulling his signature leather duster closer around his tight frame (to reduce noise, naturally – wasn't as though he felt the cold) he stalked into the night after her, careful to keep a good fifty yards between them.

It hadn't taken him long to suss out where the Slayer lived. Follow a girl on the hunt a few nights it wasn't hard to just follow her home. There were a few times he thought she'd sniffed him out, but she never did more than cast a wary glance over her shoulder. Watcher needed to work on that with her if she was going to live to realize her full potential.

Spike was prepared to follow the girl through town, melting into the shadows as he always did so as to remain unseen. Town like this wasn't likely the coppers were out this late – not if they knew what was good for 'em – but there was always the chance his grandsire was lurking about, and he had a feeling if the great brooding one caught him at this little game he'd lose his free pass. To Spike's surprise the girl didn't turn toward any of Sunnyhell's numerous cemeteries. In fact, she didn't even get off the block. Instead, at the end of the road, she got into a car with another teenaged girl. Curious he decided to tag along.

It was hardly a bother to follow after them even with them in a car. Vamp speed and all. He raced along the rooftops when he could and through the trees when he couldn't. God bless the Southern California suburbs and their persistent need to pretend they didn't live on the edge of the sodding desert. All that cover.

He stopped short as the car slammed into a parking space (and damn near another vehicle – bloody teenaged drivers) along the curb.

Slayer was going to a party.

And not just a party, no, Slayer was going to a frat party from the looks of it. The sort where booze ran like water and many a young thing was bound to enter womanhood before the night was up. What was his Slayer doing in a place like this? Not that the girl didn't deserve the occasional night out, but she was innocent as the pure driven snow – could see it in the way she moved, the way she looked at that boy of hers, and even his wanker of a grandsire. Girl had no idea what blokes were capable of.

He decided to stick close. Purely out of boredom, of course. If she wasn't going to patrol he needed something else to do and the party promised free booze. He straightened his duster, smoothed back his gelled locks, and headed inside with a confident swagger sure to ward off any questions as to his right to be there. He was more than a little out of place what with his borderline punk rocker look, not to mention he had a good few years on any of these morons, even discounting his century plus as a vamp.

He snatched up a beer, a well placed glare silencing the objection of the git holding the tray.

He leaned against the wall in a corner, scanning the room over the brim of his bright red plastic cup, searching out a familiar blond head. When he didn't find her after a few moments he became concerned. He took a sniff, but there were too many jumbled scents, too much sweat and blood and other fluids, for him to tell anything other than the fact that she had been there – which he already knew. He threw a quick glance at the stairs and was just debating heading up when he noticed the Slayer's boy wandering about. No reason for the Whelp to recognize him as they'd never officially met, but he thought it best to remain unnoticed anyway. He slunk back into what shadow he could find.

If Spike looked out of place the boy was more so. And this was the sort of party where high school girls were welcome and boys decidedly not. It was only a matter of time before someone cottoned and put the boy paid.

He didn't quite expect them to put the boy in drag, wig and all, before they kicked him out on his arse. Was right funny though. It'd been a long time since he had himself a good laugh.

It occurred to him then that he'd been there a good thirty minutes and had yet to see hide or hair of the little slayer's head. Cracking his neck he began to make the rounds. Girl had to be here someplace, though what exactly he was going to do once he found her he didn't know. Watch, he guessed. Could be good for a few laughs. And if any blokes got handsy, well he should be able to handle that without the Slayer being any the wiser. Well placed flash of fang could do wonders even on drunk frat boys.

He circled through the entire house, including the upstairs, before he realized she wasn't there. Something uncomfortable caught in his chest, a bit like panic, he thought, though of course he wasn't panicked over the Slayer's apparent absence. Girl probably just ran off home. Wasn't her sort of place after all. And even if she hadn't, it really wasn't any of his business.

He paced, agitated, trying to decide what to do and finally decided to leave. He was bored with this scene and if the Slayer wasn't here there was no reason for him to be either.

That was when he heard the screaming. Distant, muffled, indistinct, but feminine and definitely out of place at a frat party. It wasn't any of his business. And it wasn't like he cared. No conscience, right? Except that experience said that if something went wrong in Sunnydale the Slayer would be right in the middle of it. And slayers didn't fight humans, they fought Big Bads. If one of these blokes had decided to have his fun one way or the other would she use her full strength on him?

He was pushing his way through the crowd before he even realized he'd made his decision.

They were in the basement. And he couldn't find an entrance from the inside.

He practically ran toward the exterior doors, not a few innocent bystanders being tossed aside in his hurry. The entrance was farther from the building than he'd thought. The little cluster of buildings must have a shared basement. He'd only just sorted which direction the screams were coming from when he realized he sensed something other than human from the underground. Someone was summoning a beastie. Nasty one too. Surprisingly the realization brought with it relief. The girl could handle herself against beasties, nasty or not. Might not managed it without collateral damage, but he hardly cared about that.

Still, couldn't hurt to check it out. Maybe lend a hand.

Only as he started toward the entrance he realized that the cavalry had already arrived. The Watcher, the redhead, even the whelp still in drag. And his grandsire. He pulled up short. If he got any closer Angelus'd sense him. And then he'd want to know why Spike was following the Slayer again and Spike didn't have a reasonable explanation. Hell, he didn't know why he was following the girl, except that she intrigued him, and he doubted that would be an acceptable answer.

He slunk back into the shadows to watch.

What did he think he was doing anyway? The Big Bad riding in to save the day? And did he honestly think the Slayer would thank him for that? She probably didn't even know that he was still in town. Good way to get a stake in the back, this was. And when exactly had he stopped longing for that? About the time he'd taken up trailing the Slayer night after night, he supposed.

None of that stopped him from lingering to see that she made it out alright.

~.~.~.~

Okay, Tom was a total creep. And summoning icky snake demons? So not of the good. Were these guys freaking psycho? People did not just summon demons in fraternity basements and feed them high school girls. And for what? Money? Seriously, who did that?

Tom, apparently. Tom and Cordelia's precious Richard Anderson.

Could her life get any suckier?

Of course, she totally had it under control, even before everyone she knew came rushing in to save her. And nice to know that even though she wasn't good enough to date Angel was still willing to come help rescue her. Of course they'd probably had to drag him kicking and screaming. After a rousing round of save the damsels, kill the snake, send the stupid evil boys to the slammer, Buffy and her team regrouped outside the frat house.

Angel was distant, Willow was weepy, Giles was apologetic, and Xander was . . . in drag? So not going to ponder that one.

After apologizing to Giles for her lie and also the drink she had at the party (though why she was telling him that she didn't know, he wasn't her father) she took his arm and let him walk with her up the stairs and out into the open quad where the others were waiting. Angel had apparently already left with Tom in tow, and Willow, Xander, and Cordelia were discussing going to the Bronze. Giles patted her hand and encouraged her to go out and relax after her challenging evening. And wasn't that the understatement of the week.

Buffy was just about to agree when she got that prickling sensation that had become so familiar over the last several weeks. She was being watched. Only this time she was pretty sure she was picking up vamp tinglies as well. Somewhat familiar vamp tinglies. She couldn't connect the feeling with a name, but she realized now that it had been there, just on her periphery, for weeks now. In fact it first showed up around the same time as her "I'm being watched" pricklies.

A vamp following her and not harming her? Either he was one of the Annoying Ones new minions sent to spy on her, or . . .

"Buffy, you coming? Much fun and Bronzing to be had," Xander said as he realized Buffy wasn't keeping up with them.

"Um, I'll . . . I gotta do something real quick. I'll just be a second."

"O-kay." Her friend looked confused. "You want us to wait?" His gaze darted between Buffy and their increasingly distant party.

"No, that's fine. I'll catch up." Buffy forced a wide grin. "Slayer speed, remember?"

Xander still seemed uncertain, but he nodded hesitantly. "Alright, we'll, uh, catch you at the Bronze then."

"Yep," she said perkily, popping the 'P'.

And then Xander was gone and Buffy was alone. Well, nearly alone, which was kinda the point. She was careful to maintain a relaxed stance.

"Spike?" she called out. She waited with a patience she never knew she had, and a few moments later there was a deliberate rustling from the nearby brush. And then he was there, standing before her, all bleached hair and too-blue eyes.

Okay, he was majorly hot when he wasn't wasting away to nothing. And clearly eating something – though she hoped not someone – since he was all with the healthy looking now. Was there a way to tell if a vamp was hunting or bagging it? She didn't suppose she could just ask and she'd never really paid attention with Angel. She hadn't exactly done a compare and contrast essay on Angel versus other vamps. Usually she staked vamps before she could learn much about them.

For a long time they just stared at one another.

She couldn't think of anything to say. Oh, there were a thousand things she wanted to know, but they weren't the sort of things a girl could just come out and ask. Which reminded her, she never had done that research she'd been meaning to do. She'd have to get on that soon.

At length she simply turned and walked away. If he wanted to hurt her he'd had plenty of opportunity. Hello, he'd been in town for weeks (apparently) and following her. He'd had plenty of opportunity to observe her fighting style. Clearly killing her was not on his agenda. At least not at present.

For some reason she wasn't at all surprised when he fell into step beside her. They walked in silence all the way to her house on Revelo Drive and it was surprisingly comfortable. He walked her to the bottom of the driveway and then watched her walk to the front door, and then he was gone; it was like he'd just melted into the shadows. She wondered if that was how Angel did it.

She should be wigged out – he knew where she lived now. But those eyes . . . And it wasn't like he could get in without an invite anyway – though maybe she should say something to her mom just in case . . .

Not once did it occur to her that he hadn't so much been following her as he'd been walking beside her. And he hadn't hesitated on a single turn.

She never did make it to the Bronze that night, too wrapped up in thoughts of a vamp with blue-eyed windows to a soul that shouldn't be there. The Slayer of Slayers who had yet to lay a single finger on her.