[Author's Note: Thanks to all the reviewers so far. Keep them coming. It's like caffeine – it keeps me going. Glad you all are having fun with this; I certainly am. -40]

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            "Hey Buffy. How are you and the gang?" Willow asked, relieved to hear a friendly voice.

            "I'm good. We're good. It's a goodness-fest here in Sunnydale. That sounded weird. Anyway, I think the question is, how are you?"

            "Truthfully? Not so good. I was doing okay with the spell-free zone, then I got angry and boom. Crazy-eyed Willow and her roving carnival of dangerous magic tricks." She sighed. "I almost hurt someone really badly."

            "But you didn't, right? Big difference there Will."

            "I wanted to, though. It was weird. Different then the other times. With Tara and the memory spell and then the thing with Dawn … I was so out of control. I never stopped to think about good or bad. I just did, because I wanted to."

            "This wasn't like that?"

            "No. I was angry. Giles told you about it, right?"

            "Yeah, last night."

            "Well, then you know. They had this kid locked up, and his friends were so nice. I just wanted to help. All of a sudden, it was like something inside me said, 'go for it, it's the right thing' and all hell broke loose. I didn't have time to even think about it."

            "But you did once it got going, right?

            "Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, I didn't kill anyone. Yeah me."

            "You and Giles can figure it out. I have faith."

            "At least someone does."

            "So what's it like there?" Buffy asked, sensing her friend needed a subject change.

            "Real old world, you know? Torches and dark hallways and wizards in robes. Even Giles."

            "Sounds like Disney World." Willow laughed, knowing her friend's love for the conveniences of modern life.

            "It's pretty good. They use magic for all kinds of household stuff."

            "Making new friends?" the Slayer asked.

            "Yes, mom. I'm trying not to get in with the wrong crowd." They laughed together.

            "Any special friends?" Willow could envision Buffy's waggling eyebrows.

            "No. Not so much in the romance mood, Buffy."

            "No one? At all?"

            "Well, I met this one guy, but it's not like that at all. Totally a friends thing."

            "Umm … Willow? A guy? I thought … you know?"

            "I told you, it isn't like that."

            "Do you want it to be?"

            Grey finished the last kata in the series with a flourish. The vampire seemed unimpressed.

            "So you've been on this roof for twenty minutes. Why?"

            "You could tell, could you? Thought I was silent," Spike said, stubbing out his cigarette.

            "You smell like Joe Camel," Grey explained matter-of-factly. Spike sniffed the sleeve of his duster and shrugged.

            "Guess so. Perils of a filthy habit." Grey waited, figuring the vampire would continue. "Thought you might be up for a bit of sparring, is all."

            "I could go for that. Long week."

            "An' it's only Monday," the vampire said. He slipped out of his duster, dropping it on the rooftop. He wore a black t-shirt and black jeans, starkly setting his skin off from the night. "Used to it, though."

            "No biting," Grey said. He was dressed to fight: navy blue adidas warm-ups, a blue Mets t-shirt, and sneakers.

            "Aw. Takes the fun out, that does." They faced each other, each balanced on the balls of his feet. Waiting. Like predators.

            Spike blinked first. He was fairly sure the other man would have stood there all night. He moved with blinding quickness, closing on Grey with a series of undiscplined, looping punches. Backed by vampire strength and speed, it had been enough to take down two slayers.

            Grey had beaten vampires before. He spun into Spike, avoiding the vampire's long reach and angling for a shot at his chin.

            They each took a hit in the initial foray, Spike in the ribs and Grey on the cheek. Neither relented. Snapping off fists and elbows, blocking when it was possible and absorbing when it wasn't, they whirled across the rooftop in an intricate dance. By the time they separated and squared off again five minutes later, each sported a cut on the face. Grey wiped the blood out of his eyes and looked at the vampire with new respect.

            "Guess I know how you made it a hundred years," he said. Spike shrugged and charged, leading with his right. Grey instinctively threw a forearm in the way of the fist, then drove two quick jabs into Spike's jaw. The vampire dropped to the ground, looking to kick out Grey's legs, but the former auror jumped over him with astonishing speed and landed a back kick to his head.           Spike rolled away and came up panting needless breaths.

            "Are you sure you're human?" Spike asked, genuinely surprised by Grey's skill. He was nearly a match for Buffy or the King Poof.

            Grey smiled, the same evil grin from Privet Drive, and suddenly attacked. The kicks flew fast and furious from all angles, and Spike had to retreat further across the roof with each blow. Finally, in danger of being pushed off the roof, he leaped and flipped over the auror's head. As he landed, he spun and delivered a wicked kick to Grey's back, knocking him over.

            Bloody and breathing hard, they looked at each other.

            "Pretty evenly matched," Grey said.

            "Damn straight," Spike agreed, sensing an end to the battle. He lit a cigarette and savored the first drag. "Should be interesting when the big nasties show up. Whenever that might be."