(Author's Note: Slash warning (nothing too explicit))

Incomplete

Where will you find yourself?
Incomplete
Where will you find yourself?
'Cause you're the missing person now
Step outside your doubt
And let yourself be found
Incomplete' by Switchfoot

The light almost blinded him and after over a hundred years of not seeing sunlight it should be doing more than that. He should be burning. Spike tried to order his body to run to shelter, but the limbs wouldn't move the ways that he told them to. In fact they didn't feel like his at all. His legs just continued their metronome walking. Looking around he tried to guess where to, knowing that if he was possessed, as he thought, then it wouldn't be somewhere good.

He was in a sunlit school courtyard. Teenagers milled around, probably lingering for a few seconds before having to hurry off to class. Even as he took in the redbrick building all around him words issued from his throat that he had not said.

Breath Buffy. Just breath.

It was barely a whisper, clearly not directed at any of the people around him, but still audible to him. Buffy? Was she here? He tried to look around, but still his body would not obey. And the clicking as he walked was disturbing, as if he had suddenly turned into a manic-tap-dancer. Then as he walked towards one of the doorways he caught a reflection of himself in the glass.

But it wasn't him. It was a girl of about fourteen, dressed in a knee-length blue skirt and white figure-hugging short-sleeved shirt. Her long dark-blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and a heart-pendant hung from her neck. Oblivious to the shock of her passenger the girl continued to walk in her expensive heels through the doors and into a locker-filled hallway.

Spike had that odd feeling of dreaming, although he knew that he wasn't. Vampires didn't dream. Or if they did it wasn't of being teenage girls. But it was okay. It was fine. Because it was just a memory, right? For some reason, unbeknownst to him, he had been transported into one of the Slayer's memories, not his. Perhaps it was because they had been covered by the same mist. Safe in the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to change this, and that it should all end, he relaxed and decided to enjoy the show.

Buffy couldn't believe her luck. A great report card, nomination to be Spring Princess and Tyler Simons, the best looking boy in the whole school, had asked her out. On a date! Plus she was the hotty-est hottie in the whole school. It was if her life was finally getting to be good again. Her social life anyway. At least more friends and parties would mean that she could spend more time away from her arguing parents. She honestly couldn't understand why they couldn't just get it together again already. Take a weekend away - leaving the house in their daughter's capable party-planning hands.

So maybe she was a little nervous now. But it wasn't every day that you ascended. By the end of the day Buffy Summers would be hanging out with the most popular girls in school. She wouldn't just be hanging out with them, she'd be one of them.

Buffy spotted the group of people she'd been looking for and pasted on a wide smile. After a second of hesitation she rushed forward, calling out,

Hey, Maxie! Ali! Nome!

The three girls with the brand names turned around simultaneously. One raised her hand slightly in a wave, but the other two swapped their innocent-but-up-for-it looks to bitchy masks. The third quickly caught on and followed suit as Buffy reached them.

Guys... what's with the bitch-a-thon?

You're still talking to us Buffy? Cause I thought you were hanging around with Natalie--Natalia, whatever she calls herself.. Maxie spat, with all the venom that her fourteen years could allow.

Buffy hesitated, the smile dropping from her face, ...hung out a bit... Just a couple of times.

Right. And now you're... showing charity by hanging out with us again...? You know no-one can hang with that slut and us. We're just not cool enough.

That's not... True? But it was kinda. So she'd blown off her regular friends for Natalia and her older boyfriend with a car, so what? It wasn't like she was... betraying them.

Hey, Buffy, its okay. We know you never took our friendship seriously. Just climbing the ladder of popularity. Whatever. Like we care. Just don't pretend like we're still friends when we're so obviously not.

Spike watched with veiled interest. So the Slayer had been a Vally girl. And a pretty stupid one at that. Was it something that he could use against her? Shallow was the only adjective he could come up with to describe the girl he was seeing now. If you dropped a pebble into her thoughts it would break the enamel. But there were still traces of his Slayer. The Slayer he knew. Even now. Most of what she thought was about boys and clothes... but not all. He guessed this was before her calling. She was unlikely to have been so flip with people after beheading a few. It was as if being the Slayer completed her, what she was. Now she was just another kid without purpose.

The teenager turned round with a scowl plainly plastered over her pretty features. She might have used them a little but what right had they to blow her off? She wouldn't have dropped them as friends. She'd have made them as popular as she was going to be. Now they were just stuck where they were. They were going to be lonely. They were--

***

Spike was swinging a punch at someone's head. Fist connected with face, snapping it backwards for that vital second. He jumped in, the stake in his left hand raised triumphantly, and thrust it downwards into the Vampire's heart. The small look of shock that passed over the demon's face was almost as satisfying as the pile of dust he crumbled into. Spike couldn't help but grin, winning was always something he was great at. It beat losing. And although he hadn't been fighting for long, numbers were firmly in the plus column at the moment. He twirled the stake in his hand in a fancy move before shoving it into his belt. The night was young and there was plenty of Vamps to be slayed before dawn.

He didn't know what Merrick had been talking about when he said that the bloodsuckers were fatally dangerous. Okay, he did, but he'd won so many times that he was beginning to feel kinda invincible. Like a comic book hero. The Slayer. It would actually make quite a good comic-book title. Of course he'd have to collect all of the revenue, seeing as it would be based on him. He was after all the Slayer

No, no, no, no, no, no he was not! Not the Slayer. A Vampire. V a m p i r e. Not Slayer. Bloodsucker. Not teenager. Demon. It was just getting hard... hard to stay in one mind at the same time. With the kid's thoughts laid out there like an open book. Maybe this was the madness taking hold of him already. And he was afraid. He thought that crazy would be all right, seeing as you wouldn't be able to tell you were. Catch 22. But forgetting who he was completely? Even as the beast tried to rip a non-existent soul from his body, would he be thinking he was someone else. Would he be lost forever. Like in that place before being Sired. Forgotten by even himself. It was terrifying. Not that the body he was inhabiting showed any sign of realising he was there. It was a small... mercy? Hah. Mercy.

Buffy couldn't help strutting just a little as she walked though the cemetery. Watcher-free and already two Vampires down and dusted. So she hadn't chosen to be the Slayer, so what? She had, like, a whole other identity. It was mysterious. Men liked mysterious, right? And with Tyler firmly in the past, she was up for catching a few. And it was so much funnier being out of the house, rather than inside listening to the final straws being added to the back of the camel that was her parent's marriage.

A hand burst from the earth a few metre's away and the grin, which Buffy wasn't even aware had disappeared from her mouth, reapplied itself.

Except for the worries of insanity, this was much better than the last memory for Spike. Fighting, killing, Slayer. And as he felt the phantom tugs at his arms and legs in-time with her movements, he couldn't help half-wishing that he was back in Slayer-mode. Just to feel what it was like for her. A fight for him was bloodlust. But she had hot blood pumping around her veins already. Surely that was better. It had to be. And he watched with a satisfaction that almost bordered on pride as she staked her third Vampire that night. She couldn't be more that a few months older than she had been in the last memory. But she flowed better. What was the word he'd used? Complete? Complete. Being the Slayer made this girl complete. What had changed?--

***

Spike breathed, happiness filling him for the briefest of moments at the sight of the Souled Vampire.

Angel asked, delight clear in his voice as if he couldn't be sure it was him-- it was her. It was confusing.

Its me, Angel. I--I brought you some... blood... It sounded lame even as Spike said it. Was it too forward? He did think of coffee but... did Vampire's drink that? He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to make a mistake. So what did Vamp's drink? Blood of course.

Oh Buffy... Angel started forward and took the offered jar, the emotions on his face seemed to be pain and gratefulness rolled into one.

Shouldn't I--?

No. No. Its great. But you didn't have to. Seeing you is enough for me. Didn't need to bring snacks.

Maybe I am the snack. Oh god, did I really just say that? I'm the snack? Now he either thinks I have a death wish or that I'm some big ho. I didn't mean...Uh...

Its okay... Sit down.. Angel was actually smiling, perhaps he thought it was cute or something. He waved his hand towards a chair, so Spike sat down, his hands clasped firmly on his lap.

I...Missed you... Spike said haltingly. He wished men weren't so damn hard to talk to. Say too much and they thought you were asking for lifetime commitment, say to little and they thought you weren't interesting. Angel's eyes lighted up at the words and he crouched down, taking one of Spike's hands in his own.

I missed you too, Buffy... I just didn't... I didn't want to crowd you.

Crowd me? How can you crowd when you're never around. Men.

I'm older that you Buffy. You need time to... do stuff that I can't even remember. That I probably wouldn't remember... Because things are different now.

Spike started, his voice clearly irritated. He thought they'd already been through this whole I'm-over-two-hundred-years-older-than-you thing.

No... Stop. Angel laid two finger's over Spike's lips and he stopped talking immediately. Buffy. I'm not backing out. I just want to take it slow with you... Because.. love... like ours... can afford to be slow. Okay?

I guess. Spike mumbled, before kissing the fingers on his lips. Once. Twice. Angel removed them, suddenly he seemed to be uncomfortable. Spike guessed that the Vampire meant slow, slow. Very slow. It wasn't like he was a slut or anything, but what was wrong with kissing his boyfriend. Even if it wasn't on the mouth. Stop those thoughts right now! Ick. That was not something tha--

Spike was glad that he did not have his own body because otherwise he'd would be vomiting for the first time in over a hundred years. Right now. Over Angel-boy and his pretty black clothes. There was something so, sickening, about what was going on, that Spike was inclined to just fall into the madness so that he could stop believing it was him kissing the brooding-one. Sickening. Was that really what she wanted? Comfortable silences and blood-shopping? Finger kissing and eternal love? The only thing that was remotely attractive about that was... the emotions. For a moment happiness had touched his dead heart, and the feeling of being loved. And loving it return. Although that emotion wasn't so alien to him. It was definite fallacy that Vampire's can't feel. But being human it just came... easier. He might miss that. Might.

Angel leant in and kissed the beautiful girl before him, he cupped her cheek ever so gently in his hand as if she were apt to break at any accidental movement. That was what the demon inside him called out for. It called for him to finish the young girl's life, drain her dry, fuck her senseless. But he didn't listen to that part of him much anymore. Especially when he was in the presence of such a vision. After all his years of torture it seemed hardly fair that he should find love. But here it was, right before him. And despite all of his gentle words and slow movement, he wasn't going to let it get away. Unless she wanted it to. Because he would never hurt her.

Buffy rubbed that spot at the back of his neck with her fingers as she pushed her tongue into the kiss. It was tender and soft and romantic. Just what they needed after such words. They had plenty of time for the passionate stuff later. She hoped. He was always touching her as if she would shatter. She kept on meaning to show him that wasn't the case, but a small part of her loved to be pampered. And worshipped.

There was that sick feeling back again. Spike would have closed his eyes if he could. But they weren't his eyes. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. He knew that she loved the poof. And at least now he could see now what was lacking in their relationship. But watching them... first hand, so to speak... was filling him with something like jealousy. Like jealousy because there was really no rational reason for it. She didn't love him anyw--

***

Spike sprinted across the grass. His destination in plain sight, but terrified that a moment could mean the difference between life and death. He pulled out the stake that he had stashed in his belt. The wood felt familiar in his fingers, in a way that he had been told it would. After he became a good Slayer. The person who had told him that was now in trouble. And Spike had to help.

Get away from here, girl! Merrick had spotted him. Good. Then he knew he had back-up, he could-- You're not ready for this. Go!

The other man. Who wasn't a man at all. Flicked his gaze onto the Slayer with expressionless red eyes. He seemed to muse for a second before speaking with a sickly sweet voice.

Well, well. All this for me?

Spike straightened up, twirling the stake again in one hand. Did the Vampire think that he could best the Slayer and her Watcher? He was going to be surprised. Shooting a glance over at Merrick he saw with surprise that the Watcher had no weapons other than a gun. Was it all on him then? He could do it.

Girl, for once in your life... Merrick said, swinging the weapon up and enunciating each of his next words with a shot at the Vampire, Do. As. You're. Told.

Each shot hit the demon, but being just that they did no more than hurt him. And force him back a vital step. Merrick could handle it. He'd been fighting Vampire's longer than this Slayer. But Spike was still unsure... what if something were to happen? He was in the best shape of his life, ready to kick demon ass, and now when he had just that opportunity he was being told to run...

You heard the man, Buffy! Get on! Lets go, now, before I realise how stupid it was to come back!

Spike turned his head and stares at the boy calling him. The boy who was slowing becoming his friend. And decided that perhaps Merrick could handle it. It was only one Vampire.

You insult me with that... The Vampire snarled, recovering and pointing at the gun.

Just a distraction. You'll not have this one. Not this time.

Spike swung his leg over the back of the motorcycle and clung onto the driver tightly. Merrick could handle it.

I have her face, and after I make you mine, a Vampire, you will give me her name. Even kill her for me if I command it. The Vampire rasped.

The bike roared to life beneath Spike and all other words were drowned out. He glanced back to see Merrick reply to the Vampire. Why wasn't he staking him? And then... Then the Slayer's Watcher turned the gun and placed in into his own mouth. Spike couldn't watch. And yet he couldn't save either. The bike was already speeding away and the loud roaring was filling his ears even as tears filled his eyes. The sound of the motorbike could not drown out the sound of a gun firing. Once.

Salt water dripped down his cheeks and his heart shattered. As a little piece of him broke off, leaving him incomplete. He wanted to scream, and to beat someone up, even as he wanted to cry and sob into someone's arms. He wanted to turn around and kill the fiend that had caused this, yet he was afraid of his own death. Was this what a Slayer was? A killer? Not just of demons. Of Vampires. But of people. Of friends. Of himself. They called this a Calling? It was more like a curse.--

(Author's Note: I would apologise for the lateness of this double-chapter whammy, but because of a few....uh... rude reviews I don't think I need to. Don't get me wrong. I love all of my reviewers and I wish I could write more for them. But I'm also trying to get some qualifications. And they come first. Anyway... I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing, or disturbing (mostly the B/A/S scene... *evil laugh*). Basically Spike did not appear at all, but we were hearing his thoughts as he slowing went mad inside Buffy's memories, for anyone who didn't get that.)