Feedback: Please. It keeps me writing.

Pairing: B/S

Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter took a little long; I was suffering from major writer's block. If the ending to this chappie seems a little off, it's because I had to split it into two parts - it was getting way too long.

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The branches of a massive oak tree rustled as a flurry of creatures fled from the leafy abode. Birds of all types took flight; robins, jays, and canaries dotted the sky in a myriad of color. The faint rustling of leaves greeted the night as the animals left to find a more secure shelter, away from that horrid, grating noise. All their natural instincts told them to run; that no thing that made such an ungodly sound could bring anything but chaos.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero? You're everything I would like to beeeee . . . and I can something, something eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings," Buffy sang to herself, a sort of giddy anticipation working its way up her body.

She strolled alongside the road, clutching a stake in one hand and a cross in the other, thoughts of love and redemption and vamp dust filling her head. A full moon hung lazily in the sky, shedding a dim, golden haze over her face. Somewhere far away, a wolf howled. Buffy sighed contentedly. A night like this, a perfect, glorious night, just made her want to kill something.

A rustling in a nearby tree caught her attention, and Buffy whipped her head around, just in time to see a swarm of miniscule creatures fleeing their protective habitat. A small flock of birds took flight; she had to duck as they swooped over her head. And as suddenly as they had left, so did the noise. The rustling nearly ceased, the animals were long gone, and Buffy was left in their wake, still holding a stake, a tune still on her lips. She blinked a few times, trying to grasp the situation.

"O-kay. That was about an eight on the weird-o-meter. Come back guys," she called out into the night, "What do you have against that song? What does -everyone- have against that song?!"

After a quick pause, Buffy continued on her way. A bunch of birds and squirrels running from her singing was certainly odd, but it wasn't something to worry about. She knew that she was no Whitney Houston, but she didn't think she was -that- bad. 'Hmm . . . good thing I'm the Chosen. Otherwise I might have tried to pursue a career in music.' The thought gave her the willies.

The wrought-iron gates of the cemetery loomed ahead of Buffy, and a jolt of adrenaline rushed through her system. Her thoughts came rapidly and had a sort of giddy, idiotic, disjointed feel to them. 'Spike. Patrolling. Patrolling with Spike. In the cemetery. This cemetery. With Spike.'

She pushed the thoughts aside as she came to the entrance of the cemetery, to the rusted gates. Buffy eyed the heavy padlock that held the gates shut, and judged it to be a fairly recent model. She figured that she could break it with one swift kick, but a pang of guilt wormed its way into her stomach. She knew why that lock had been replaced - she had broken the last one. And the one before that. And countless other locks on countless other cemetery gates, causing the city money to replace them every time. It was a fine example of her tax dollars at work, and she knew it would be wrong to break it again. Her tax dollars were supposed to go to fund important things, like education for children or a private swimming pool for the mayor, not padlocks. Buffy decided that she wasn't really in a kicking mood.

Besides, it was rarely fun when the thing you were beating up didn't fight back.

Buffy stepped back to get a good look at the gate. Through years of precision training she had gotten pretty good at guessing the height of things; you never knew when you would be fighting a twenty-foot tall demon, and you had to know where to stab. A sword through the groin in certainly painful, but usually not lethal; she had to know where to land a deathblow. Her very life depended on it.

Further scrutiny confirmed her first estimation of fifteen feet. Not too tall, but not a walk in the park, either. For the life of her, Buffy couldn't figure out why the cemeteries in Sunnydale had such large gates. It could hardly be for protection from vandals - they could just break the lock as she had so many times. Maybe it was just for show . . . ?

Taking a few steps back, Buffy crouched low, placing her hands to either side of her and tensing her muscles. In one deft move, she leapt from the sodden turf, propelling herself over the gate and onto the cemetery lawn, where she landed solidly on her feet. Spreading her arms out to her sides like a gymnast, a small grin crept across her face. Sometimes having to train days on end with a stuffy look-what-a pain-in-the-ass-I-can-be Watcher wasn't such a bad thing.

"She shoots, she scores," she cheered to herself, taking a small bow.

"And the crowd goes wild."

Her eyes growing wide, Buffy spun around and bumped straight into Spike. Buffy took a few steps backwards, stumbling over a tree root that was sticking up from the ground. With lightening speed, Spike grabbed her by the waist and stopped her from falling, pulling her to her feet.

"Nice form, love. A little shaky on the dismount," he teased, a wicked gleam in his eyes, "Might want to train a little more before you try for the gold, though."

Running a hand through her tousled blonde locks, Buffy found a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, well, I don't think the Olympics tends to have judges hiding and trying to scare the athletes. You've gotta give me some credit for not staking you on the spot."

"Firstly, I wasn't hiding," he countered, "And second, you wouldn't stake me if you could."

"Okay, fine, you weren't hiding," she admitted, "But you were lurking. Not like there's a huge difference. And what makes you so sure that I wouldn't stake you? I mean, give me one good reason why I -"

He cut her off with a bruising kiss, stopping her mid-sentence with lips and tongue. Buffy reacted with matching urgency, and only drew away when she needed to take a breath. She looked up at him and smiled.

"I asked for a good reason, Spike," she said, sighing, "Not a great one."

Spike reached down to capture her lips once more, but she pushed him away after a few moments. "Nu-uh," Buffy scolded, "No more smooching until the work's done. Remember? We're here to patrol. With the demons and the vamps and the stakes and the 'poof'?"

"Aww, not even for me," Spike asked, a humorous grin on his face, "Not even for the wind beneath your wings?"

Buffy's mouth dropped open and she gaped at him. "You heard me," she squeaked, pushing Spike away with a shaky hand, "What, was it one of those vampiric hearing deals?"

"Please," he scoffed, grinning wider than a Cheshire cat, "I didn't need it. You were singing so bloody loud the entire cemetery could hear your caterwauling. But on the plus side, you scared off all the baddies. Well," he added with a raised eyebrow, "All except one."

"Yeah," she said, an embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks, "A neutered baddie. So terrifying."

"NOT neutered," he huffed, "Not castrated or impotent or any of those other demeaning sexual terms you're so fond of using. I'm. restricted. Restricted in my killing abilities by a bleeding chip in my head. Have some sympathy."

"I'm sorry that you can't kill innocent people any more, Spike," her voice was thick with sarcasm, "I'm so upset that you can't eat my friends." Buffy rolled her eyes. "So sorry, but if you're looking for sympathy, you'll have to find it elsewhere. Especially since that 'caterwauling' remark." She turned her back to him and folded her arms across her chest in a defiant, childish manner.

Spike walked up behind her and placed his arms around hers, drawing her closer to him. "Aww, come on, pet. I'm sorry; you sounded beautiful. Really. You should be a professional."

"Yeah, just like you should get a tan," she joked. Turning around, Buffy couldn't stop a smile as she saw that Spike was pouting, sticking his lower lip out and looking as adorable as a puppy. A really, really sexy puppy. He let out a small whine, and Buffy felt what anger she had melt away into nothingness.

"All right, I forgive you," she conceded, seeing obvious relief wash over his face, "But only if you promise to be good. We're going to patrol, okay? No more hanky panky until we're through."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Yep. The poorly tacked together plans of mice and men. Or Slayer and vampires."

"Oh no," Spike protested, throwing his hands up in the air, "Don't try and give me credit for this. Not only is it poorly tacked together, it's risky."

"Risky how?" she asked, confused.

"Think about it. Doughboy gets over his injuries, decides to come out and pay you a visit like the genius he is. He sees us together, and you lose your sparkling reputation of never getting involved with vampires. No, wait; there was that one bloke. What was his name? Something poncy." Spike stopped and scratched his chin, looking pensive.

Buffy giggled. "It was Angel. An-gel. Hmm . . . I wonder how he's doing over there in LA. Maybe I should give him a call and tell him to come down here. You know," she added, grinning as Spike's eyes widened comically, "Just to give you a once-over."

"Oh, no," he said, backing away, his voice filled with apprehension, "If I never see that bugger again, it'll be too soon."

"I don't know, Spike," she teased, "I could tell him about us, and I'm sure he'd be down here faster than you can say 'I'm going to kill you for touching her'."

Spike chuckled. "Not sure that he'd use those many words. Probably'd be more like: 'Me kill. You die now.'"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "He's not Frankenstein."

"Naw, but he's got the same look. I mean, think about. Both of 'em are dead, both have that same vacant expression . . . and I think they shop at the same store."

"What, Monsters R Us?"

"No, the Gap."

Off of her incredulous look, he added, "That place is bloody terrifying. It's like they're raising an army of polo-clad minions."

"Hey," Buffy said, defensively, "I shop at the Gap!"

Spike eyed her wardrobe, and shook his head. "Not when I'm through with you, you won't."

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To be continued. Soon. I promise.