Disclaimer: This chapter contains references to the episode "Halloween", 2x06, written by Carl Ellsworth and directed by Bruce Seth Green, originally broadcast October 27, 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.

10.

Halloween was a trip. Literally. And not just the taking-kids-around-the-block kind Principal Snyder had planned for her. No, she was talking a blast-from-the-past, evil warlock instigated, mind trip from hell. Apparently evil warlocks didn't abide by the no-evil-on-Halloween rule. Sucky warlocks. And she didn't even get the satisfaction of kicking his evil butt around town because she was stuck thinking she was an eighteenth century lady. Which, apparently, was synonymous with useless because all she could remember doing was screaming and swooning. Fortunately Willow and Giles were on top of things and Xander (and she could not believe it had come to this), Xander kept her safe until she became herself again. Who knew a cheap plastic gun would count as a military costume?

She totally should have gone with a superhero costume. Or maybe Xena, Warrior Princess. And then Willow could have been her Gabriel and she might actually have stayed in her costume instead of wearing that stupid sheet. Although her costume ended up on display anyway when she became an actual ghost. And the ghosting actually turned out to be pretty convenient considering all the badness happening on the streets. At least she wasn't able to get hurt like Buffy was.

She wasn't really sure why she hadn't (worn a superhero costume, that was) except that the dress was pretty and the shop guy was very persuasive. Guess now she knew why. Wouldn't have done the evil warlock any good to have her running around with even more superpowers than she already had. She momentarily wondered if costumed superpowers would have been added to her existing Slayer package or would have replaced them entirely before deciding it was a pointless argument since it didn't happen. And if it had she wouldn't even be thinking about this. It probably would have been bad anyway. Her superhero self wouldn't have known that all the monsters running around were really kids in costumes and she might have hurt some of them.

Giles was being kinda weird about the whole thing – like maybe he was hiding something. Except that Giles didn't usually hide things from her . . . at least she didn't think he did. He was her watcher. It was kinda his job to tell her stuff. Unless it was stuff about him and Ms. Calendar, because . . . old people smoochies – ewww. Still . . . Willow said it seemed like he recognized the name of the guy who owned the costume shop, but when Buffy asked Giles about it he was totally being all avoidy-guy. It was weird.

At any rate, between the costume possession and Cordelia (and she was never going to live that down – clinging to Cordelia in fear) and rounding up the kids to get them back to their parents it was an exhausting night. All in all she was super glad her mom had been out of town on a buying trip. She didn't think even her mother's obliviousness could stand up to a town full of kids-turned monsters and she had no idea how she would have begun to explain it.

The actual vampires, fortunately, were a no show. Guess Giles was right about the "dead for the undead" thing. Thank God the Anointed One at least got that right, though she hated knowing the little creep was still lurking around town somewhere – him and his stupid vampire "birth-right". Still, he was keeping his minions in line, she guessed, which had to be a good thing, right? Silver lining at the very least. She didn't know what vampires did when there wasn't a master in town, but she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. Sure they'd be less with the organized plans, but probably more with the random carnage. As it was most of the vamps seemed to be laying low right now.

She didn't even see Spike on Halloween – apparently he was being a good little demon and staying in – but when she went out on patrol the next night she felt him there, following her. Once or twice his distinctive signature had . . . flickered, maybe, but for the most part it was a steady presence always just on the edge of her range. It was so strange how easy it was to track him, because she was usually really lousy at that vampy senses thing – it was something Giles always complained about. If it wasn't Angel or Spike she was clueless. She wondered if it was an Aurelian thing. Or an old thing? A Master Vampire thing?

For the most part she ignored Spike's presence lurking in the shadows, but it was almost comforting to know that he was watching her. Even if he wouldn't step in to help if she needed it (and at this point she kinda suspected that he might) at least there'd be someone to tell her friends and family what had happened to her. Not that that would go over well with her mother who didn't even know she snuck out of the house every night, let alone that she was slaying monsters.

By the end of the week she was tired of the stalk and lurk routine so when she found a quiet moment between stakings she called out to him.

"I know you're there, Spike," was all she said.

A moment later there was a rustling, maybe not even a rustling, maybe just the barest hint of moving air, and he was there, to her left and a few steps behind. She stopped to study him for a moment, but he didn't seem inclined to say anything, or even to look at her really. He just stood there waiting for her to make a move. She wondered what he would do if she suddenly tried to stake him. He'd asked her for it that first night, right? Did he still feel the same? For some reason that thought gave her a twinge, right in the vicinity of her heart. She didn't think that was normal. After a minute or so she gave up puzzling him and the weird sympathy she had for him out and continued her trek toward the next cemetery. Halloween might be a demon holiday, but they were certainly making up for the single-day lull now.

Spike followed her all through patrol and never said a word, only watched her. At least he didn't get in the way, which was more than she could say for her friends sometimes. She shook off the disloyal and somewhat ungrateful thought. Yes, she spent half her time worried about them when they came out on patrol with her, but they were only doing it because they cared. As for Spike . . . she didn't know why he followed her. Boredom? Angel would probably say he was studying her fighting style to use against her later. Giles would definitely say that. But somehow she didn't think so. He just seemed so . . . broken.

She wondered if he followed her because he was lonely.

She'd finally done some digging into his history (prompted, primarily, by her impromptu initiation into the past – stupid warlock and his possessive costumes . . . possessing costumes? Costumes of possession? Whatever – prompted by the fact that her costume had turned her into an eighteenth century damsel in distress) and had learned about his sire and paramour (and that was a funny word, but it was the one the books had used and somehow she couldn't bear to use the word "lover" in conjunction with the vampire and his insane sire), Drusilla, whom he spent the last century serving in utter devotion.

The vampiress didn't seem to be here with him now. Had she abandoned him? Dusted? It must have been something bad if he came all the way to Sunnydale just to find a Slayer to end his misery. Or maybe he'd hoped Angel would do it for him? That would explain why he went to the older vampire's apartment that first night. Angel probably knew, but she couldn't exactly ask him. Especially now that they were most definitely not an item. She'd hardly seen him lately and she felt surprisingly relieved for it.

Anyway, if Spike really had been with the same woman for more than a hundred years he had to miss her. And if he'd actually loved her . . .

According to Giles vampires couldn't love. Angel was different, of course, because he had a soul (not that she thought he was in love with her, they hardly knew one another – though he had dusted his sire for her, which was apparently a big deal in the vampire world), but normal vampires didn't have souls and without a soul they weren't capable of any feeling as positive or selfless as love. But thinking back to her first encounter with Spike she could believe it of him. Only someone who loved deeply could feel so much pain. Emotional pain anyway.

All in all research had been a complete wash. Spike was even more of a mystery to her now than he had been before. All she'd really learned was that Angel without a soul had been majorly bad news, and he'd tried his best to make Spike just like him. For some reason it hadn't seemed to take. Oh, Spike was all about the violence, but he seemed to prefer a good fist fight over a session of rape and torture. She wondered if that was the reason he sought out Slayers – because they were a challenge.

Unless she asked him she supposed she'd never know. She sent him a sideways glance, but decided this probably wasn't the time. They'd only spoken the once and even that had been kind of one-sided. The kind of one-sided where he begged her to dust him and then left in a huff when she couldn't seem to do it. That didn't exactly make them friends. Though she still didn't think they were quite enemies. Well, it didn't seem like he had plans to go anywhere anytime soon; maybe she'd get the chance to ask him later. Though she couldn't imagine any conversation that would offer up a good segue to "so, I hear you kill my kind, care to tell me why?" or even, "Did your crazy lover die, is that why you wanted me to dust you?" Yeah, she really wasn't seeing any way to bring those topics up in casual conversation. Good thing it looked as though she'd have lots of time to work on it.

~.~.~.~

Spike followed after the little slayer, walking on her heel like an obedient dog. He couldn't quite figure why he was doing it except that it seemed silly to continue lurking about in the shadows when she so clearly knew he was there. She didn't seemed worried or upset by his presence either, which probably should sting his pride, but for some unfathomable reason didn't. He was the Slayer of Slayers; he was a right dangerous vamp, part of the bloody Scourge of Europe. He was a threat, someone to be feared. Except that at the moment he really wasn't.

Drinking bagged blood and trailing the Slayer like a lost puppy. Yeah, he was the Big Bad alright.

And yet . . . and yet he couldn't seem to get up the will to do anything evil. Probably just his curiosity. At least Angelus wasn't around to see him. Ponce that the old man had become, what with the bloody soul and all, the blond vamp had a feeling his grandsire still wouldn't hesitate to give him what for if the git knew he was still following the Slayer. She'd probably get an earful too 'f the ponce knew she'd let him. Although maybe he already knew. Seemed a likely catalyst for his little barge n' bluster the other week.

Still, Spike wasn't the kind to be scared off. Did what he wanted when he wanted and if it suited him to tag along after the Slayer he would – and never mind brooding grandsires or even his own misgivings.

He considered speaking to the girl, maybe asking her about recent events. 'Parently there was a bit of commotion on Halloween. He'd not been out and about to see it himself – no self respecting demon lurked about on Halloween, was too obvious – but he heard about it later. Pissed him off to think of some silly human sorcerer sniffing around his slayer. So much so that he'd actually dusted a vamp or two trying to sneak up on the chit the next night. If he wasn't going to snuff her he sure as hell wasn't about to let anyone else. Not a vamp in Sunnydale worthy to lay a fang on her.

He shook the thought off and decided it was best to keep his mouth shut for now. Who knew what would come out of it if that was the sort of thing runnin' about his head. He consoled himself that it was just a phase. He was going through a rough patch, but he'd find himself again eventually and when he did the streets would run red.

Course they would. 'Cause he was bad. Evil. That was just what he did. Curious little slayers who refused to kill him be damned. He didn't owe her anything – had given her a more than fair chance to end him and she hadn't taken it. Was on her own head what he did after.

He walked with her every night after that, to her left and a few steps behind, a constant, silent presence. Always in complete silence, the both of them, each lost in their own thoughts he suspected. Until the night something changed.

A/N: Alright - for those of you who are getting antsy for the Spuffy action - remember that I did warn in the beginning this was a "melancholy and introspective piece" which means there will always be more thinking than talking. However, yes that last line was a hint that the winds they are a changin'. We have left the stalk and lurk portion of the fic and headed into some actual Buffy/Spike interaction. There will be talking very, very soon. In fact, you might soon wish Buffy would talk less (just kidding, I hope). As for Spike . . . well, you'll just have to hang in there. For those who are wondering if all this (semi) angst is worth it I do want to tell you that this story is finished and, yes, it has a Spuffy ending. I don't do unhappy. Life sucks enough without miserable happening in my enterntainment (which is why I will never forgive Joss and emerse myself in fanfic).

-K- I'm done now. Hope that settles any lingering grumblies or concerns. Thanks for reading and if you have time drop a line of review.

reenas-as