Chapter 7

He'd always hated cemeteries—especially at night.  Not that he was afraid of them, of course.  No, William thought as he scuttled past gravestones, keeping pace with Buffy who was five steps ahead of him, he wasn't frightened.  It was just that—

"Oh dear lord!"

A creature loomed up in front of him.  Where had it come from?  He wasn't sure.  He stared into its yellow eyes, paralyzed.  Its face was horrible and disfigured, a leering sideshow freak.  Snarling and baring its razor sharp teeth, it lunged towards him.

William emitted a girlish scream and ducked out of its way with agility that surprised him.  The monster lurched past him, then swung around, growling, and looking as if it were about to attack again.  Then, unexpectedly, it staggered forward, its golden eyes wide.

A split-second later, the monster burst into a shower of ashes and standing in its place, brandishing a pointy stick, was Buffy.  She brushed the soot off her jacket with her free hand and held the stake in his direction.  Frozen, William stood gaping at her, wondering if she intended to dispose of him as she'd done with the creature.  But instead she lowered the stake, and took a step towards him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, studying his face with what looked like concern.

He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, found he was unable to, then nodded once instead.  At that, her lips curled into a thin smile, obviously amused.  When William eventually found his voice, it was barely a whisper.

"What was that creature?" he asked.

Her look was questioning.  "Don't you know?"

He shook his head.

"A vampire," she replied matter-of-factly, staring him in the eye.

"V-vampire?" he stammered, astonished. He'd heard of such creatures of course…but only in books. 

Buffy nodded, took several steps toward him until she was only a foot away.   She placed a hand on his cheek and held it there for several long seconds.  He closed his eyes savoring the softness of her fingertips, remembering the previous night. 

"Cool to the touch," she commented sharply, causing his eyes to fly open.  Then her hand slid down to his chest and she patted it.  She gave him a meaningful look.  "And no heartbeat, see?"  He raised his own hand to his breast, moving it around in search of the expected thumping.  His heart should have been hammering with fear after his near-death encounter with the purported vampire, but it was strangely silent.  He looked back at her in disbelief. 

"You're one too," she said finally.

"No," he whispered, horrified.  Surely, she was mistaken!  Vampires were supposed to be evil creatures…vile!  He couldn't be…  But the lack of a heartbeat…the coolness of his skin…  And of course, there was the matter of his having been living in a crypt the past couple of days.

Buffy sighed.  "I'm afraid so.  I'm not sure what's happened exactly, but you've got Spike's body.  It may sound kind of impossible, but trust me, these things do happen around here.  I've actually got some experience in the body-swapping department."

"Did you say body-swapping?"

"Yeah, at least that's what I think's going on here.  Could be wrong though."  Buffy shrugged, then started walking.  "We'd better get going."

"May I ask where?"

She turned to him, looking surprised.  "My place.  It's not far."

* * *

The house was cozy.  Quite a bit smaller than his family home back in London, but it seemed comfortable and, he noted, eyeing the familiar-looking box in the corner of the living room, it had a television. 

Buffy pointed to the sofa.  "Sit!" she ordered, her tone commanding.

William sat.

"Now, you wait here.  I'll be right back.  Understand?" 

He nodded, almost expecting her next words to be "good puppy".  But she left the room in silence, disappearing in several long strides, and leaving only her scent lingering in the air.  He lifted his chin, sniffed twice, and grimaced involuntarily.  Essence of burnt lard, was it?

He glanced over at the television, and found it beckoning.  Slowly, he rose and crept towards it.

He was just two feet away, when, without warning, it came to life.  He jumped up and let out a cry of surprise.  Spinning around, he discovered that he was no longer alone.  Now sitting on the sofa was a young girl with an elfin face, and long brown hair.  He immediately thought of his sister, Emily, of whom she reminded him.  The girl held a thin black box in her hand and was craning her neck to look past him at the television.

Frowning, she gestured for him to move to the side.  "Do you mind?" she asked, sounding impatient.  "Joe Millionaire's on!"

"Joe Millionaire?"  Baffled, he stepped away from the t.v. and looked around for a place to sit.  Finally, he settled on an armchair to the side of the sofa.

Eyes fixed on the television, the girl inched forward to the edge of her cushion.  "Yeah, tonight it's down to just three gold diggers," she informed him.  She paused, thought for a moment, then said, "Actually, I take that back.  There's really only two gold diggers left.  One seems okay, but you have to wonder if she's for real.  I mean, why would someone be on this show in the first place?"

William had no idea what she was talking about, but nodded anyway.  "Um, quite right," he said, looking from the girl to the t.v. and back to the girl.

"Ooh, it's starting," she said, bouncing in her seat with seeming excitement.  William turned his attention back to the television and watched as an impressive estate loomed onto the screen.  Next, he saw a tall, brawny man with dark, wavy hair that almost touched his shoulders enter an elegant drawing room.  The man was smiling at three attractive women; a brunette with an angular face, another brunette with kinked hair and chipmunk-like teeth, and a blonde with large, er…eyes.  William leaned forward.  He found the last girl rather fetching… 

* * *

Upstairs in her room, Buffy paced about, clutching the cordless phone to her ear.  "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," she muttered under her breath.  After five rings, there was a click and an answering machine came on.  Letting out a breath of frustration, Buffy was about to hang up, when a girl's voice interrupted the machine.

"H-hello?"

Buffy stopped her pacing.  "Tara, thank god you're home!"

"Buffy?  What's going on?"

"I'm not totally sure, but I need you're help."

"Of course, but—"

"I didn't know who else to call.  Can you meet me in an hour or so?"

"Sure, but…is it about Spike?"

Buffy paused.  Clearly, Tara was thinking about Buffy's secret relationship with Spike.  The blonde witch was the only one the Slayer had opened up to about her embarrassing affair with yet another vampire.  Buffy swallowed hard.  "Yeah, but it's not what you're thinking."

* * *

"Now where is it?" Spike muttered to himself as he systematically searched the large mahogany desk in his father's study.  He rifled through the first two drawers before reaching the one on the bottom.  He gave the handle a tug, only to discover that it was locked. 

"Figures," he growled under his breath.  He pulled harder, but it still refused to budge.  "Bloody weakling!"  He looked around the desktop for something to pry it open with, quickly spotting a silver letter opener.  Grabbing the knife-like instrument, he proceeded to jimmy the drawer open and was rewarded several minutes later, when the wood splintered and finally gave way.

Spike smiled, triumphant, eyeing what he had been searching for.  His father's revolver.

* * *

Hair still damp from her shower, Buffy hurried down the stairs, shrugging on her black leather coat as she hit the bottom step.  She turned towards the living room and paused when she saw Dawn and the vampire who looked like Spike but wasn't, watching t.v.  William, as he called himself, seemed animated and curious, flooding the teenager with an array of questions.

Eyes never leaving the set, Dawn hissed for his silence. "Wait until the commercial break!" she ordered.

William nodded.  "Oh, all right.  But isn't it odd that they just went off into his bedroom like that and shut the door?  I mean, you don't think…  Er, they couldn't have…  Um, they didn't, you know…  Did they?"

Dawn shot him an irritated look.  "Hello?  What planet are you from?  Um, gold digger, remember?"

William frowned.  "So these women would just, er, um, bestow themselves upon this 'Joe' fellow—"

"Evan" Dawn corrected.  "His name's Evan."

"Right.  So they'd just bestow themselves upon this Evan fellow because they believe him to be wealthy?"

Dawn shifted her focus from the television and eyed him with annoyance.  "Um, again, hello!  It's sort of the whole premise of the show!"

William sat back in his seat, lips pursed.  "Seems rather sad," he said quietly, "but I suppose there are women who value wealth above all else."  He looked up as Buffy entered to the room, and his eyes locked with hers.  "Of course, not all women are so mercenary."

* * *

Anya took a sip of her cafe mocha and smiled at Halfrek, who was sitting across the table from her at Sunnydale's newest Starbuck's.  "I'm starting to get that really excited feeling," said the bride-to-be/ former demon.  "Now that we've finally got the bridesmaids' dresses picked out, everything's just coming together.  It's like…" she paused, eyes dreamy, staring off in the distance.  "A fairy tale."

In response, her vengeance demon friend forced a smile and patted Anya's hand.  "Oh, Anyanka," she sighed, "Although, I'm happy if you're happy, I still prefer eviscerating princes to marrying them.  Do you remember the time when you disemboweled that French Duke in—"

Grimacing, Anya cleared her throat, silencing Halfrek.  "Well, that was a long time ago.  Things are different now.  I wouldn't…I mean I couldn't possibly even think of…"  She looked at her friend and sighed.  "And besides, Xander's not a prince, he's a construction worker.  Just an ordinary Joe."

Halfrek nodded.  "Still—"

"Hey!" Anya interrupted, eyes suddenly focused on a table across the room.  "Isn't that Buffy and…Spike?"

Halfrek spun halfway in her seat.  "Interesting," she murmured, studying the couple.

"Yeah," Anya continued, her gaze still fixed on the Slayer and vampire.  Buffy was staring at the entrance as if waiting for someone to join them, while Spike glanced around the place like he'd never been inside a Starbuck's before.  "That's odd.  Why would she be here with him?" Anya wondered.  "I mean, normally, the only time Buffy ever fraternizes with Spike is when she's out slaying, and even then, he usually has to walk like five paces behind her.  I'm mean she would never…"  She paused and thought for a moment.  "You don't think it's a date, do you?"

Halfrek shrugged.  "Possibly," was her cryptic reply.

Anya frowned.  "But Buffy hates Spike.  I mean, she's good…and, of course, technically, he's evil…"

"Well, you know what they say about opposites, Anyanka."

The ex-demon's eyes narrowed as she stared at her friend.  "You know something, don't you?  The other day, when you mentioned Spike…"

But Halfrek's only response was her smile; closed and tight-lipped, but knowing.