A/N: Well, here it finally is. To find out what I mean, please read on. ;-D Oh, and something else. Whilst I am a B/S fan, and really hope that they will get together properly, they didn't in this fic. Sorry! Please don't kill me!

Disclaimer: Oh please. If I owned Buffy, this would actually be happening, and not just written as a fanfic. **Shakes fist** Damn Joss Whedon.

Dedication: To FanFreak, Charisma Brianne, Jen, and everyone else who has pestered, pleaded, and kept reminding me that they wanted Spike in this fic. Here ya go.

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The vampire was still disorientated from just rising from his grave, but that didn't seem to be holding back any of his new-found powers.

Spike threw a punch at the guy's jaw, knocking him back a bit. The fight was bitter- they always were. He was used to that now.

"C'mon, you pillock," he sneered at the fallen enemy. "Aren't you gonna fight the fight?"

The vampire rose and lunged at Spike, catching him by the throat and tackling him to the ground. His grip tightened, and he prepared to break the bleached vamp's neck. Spike's face transformed to a vampiric mask and he growled as he tried to get away. No use. This guy weighed a ton and a half. He clawed at the hands. Still no use.

Spike had just registered the fact that he was about to die a humiliating death at the hands of some rabid newbie when the vamp let out a yell. He arched his back a bit, released his grip on Spike, and exploded into dust.

A stake clattered off the mausoleum.

Spike sat up, reaching out for the stake with his left hand. He got up, dusting ash from his coat, and wondering where the hell the stake had come from. He didn't have to wait long for his answer.

"Well, that was quite good. I'd say ten points for my team." came a girl's voice from his right.

The vampire turned and saw the speaker sitting casually on a tombstone quite a way off. Frowning in slight confusion, he took a couple of wary steps towards her. He sensed her smile as she raised her hands.

"Give us it here then." He realised that the voice was heavily accented with an Irish lilt.

He threw back the stake and she caught it expertly. The darkness that she had chosen to sit in prevented him from seeing her face that clearly, so he went even closer. She sheathed the stake in her jacket, got up, and began to walk towards him as well.

Eventually, they were about a foot apart. She blinked and raised her eyebrows as a young-looking honey with bleached blonde hair and dressed in black came into view. He didn't seem to be at all like the timid guy in the photo.

He saw a pale, pretty girl of sixteen with large, beautiful dark-brown eyes. She was wearing tight black jeans, an old black jacket, and a form-fitting black top that showed off her slim white shoulders. Her dark brown hair hung straight and loose in a shining veil half-way down her back, and one hand was clasped over the pendant of the silver chain adorning her neck. Then he saw the likenesses all too clearly.

"Angel..." he hissed, half to himself. Contempt for that poofter he was once proud to call his grandsire rose in him again. She seemed to understand.

"I'm his sister, long story," the girl said with a roll of her sweet eyes and a small smile. "Explain later. But I'm Gracia."

"You're a Slayer." he stated bluntly. Of course, nobody but a Slayer could have an aim like that.

"Good guess. And you're a vampire. Spike, I believe?"

"Yeah," he said, wondering what the hell the teenager wanted from him. "What of it?"

Her smile faded and her voice was completely solemn. "I heard about you. I need as many allies as I can get."

"And why should this concern me?"

"I've heard how you changed sides-"

He cut her off angrily. "Yeah, cause some bloody fudgepackers put a soddin' chip in my bloody brain. How else am I supposed to keep from filling an ashtray?"

She remained unfazed and calm. That made him...he didn't know. It unerved him very slightly. He had expected some sort of reaction, but got none.

"So that's what happened. I wondered. Whatever." She shrugged and hugged her jacket closer in an attempt to keep out the cold. "I just want to know if you'll help us. Something bad's going on, and any information is really apreciated."

"How should I know?" Spike was annoyed. He'd come out for some violence, and met the new Slayer. Her bloody confidence and friendliness put him out even more. Then his eyes were drawn to the pendant her hand had revealed. It was a simple silver crucifix, slightly scratched and battered, but unmistakable.

"That's Buffy's." he stated, pointing at it. She glanced at it quickly, confused.

"Huh?" Then she remembered Angel's words at the Bronze. "Oh. Right."

"How come you have it?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"My brother."

"And so Angel the bloody poofter gave you something that belonged to her. What right did he have?"

It pained him still. Although he had been close to Buffy, her heart was never his. She always loved Angel, always would do. But he didn't know about this. All he had were a few old fading photographs and a bunch of memories.

Gracia shrugged. "I don't know. Wasn't here. Look, save your arguments for another time. This is important."

"Why should anything you do concern me?" OK, so his quips weren't as scathing as usual, but being interupted by some tiny teenager when he was fighting had annoyed him greatly. He just wanted her to go back from where she came from and not to bother him ever again.

Gracia knew what he was thinking. That was why she had steered the conversation directly to the point.

"Look, somebody's trying to hurt me with...witchcraft or something, I don't know. They've hurt my little sister badly. She could have died. I need as much help as anyone can give." Her eyes locked with his, serious and penetrating and mysterious.

"It doesn't bother me." Spike said, somewhat cruelly. "Crawl back to your Watcher."

"I don't even know where she is half the time. The other half, she's no help at all." Her eyes widened pleadingly. "Please."

"What're you going to do if I don't?" Spike laughed. "Cry?"

Her face switched to emotionless mode- again, not quite the reaction he was expecting. She shrugged.

"OK. Your decision. You wanna find me, check out the high school library or the Bronze. I'm usually in one of those places." Her lips curved into a smile. He narrowed his eyes, trying to ignore the torrent of conflicting feelings in him.

She turned on her heel and strode away, arms still folded around her to keep out the cold. He watched her go, cursing himself for not striking back with some witty remark.

"Expect nothing," he eventually called, but she disappeared without another glance back, glimmering hair flowing and rippling behind her.

Gracia kept her eyes down as she headed home. She forced her wits to concentrate on her surroundings, and desperately tried to ignore the flipping sensation in her stomach.

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**Coughcough** Sozz, I am REALLY ill today. Pounding headache, throat on fire, painful hacking cough...you wanna make me better? Then review at once please! ;-)

**Coughcough**