I am sooooo sorry this is a day late! I didn't get it done yesterday because I didn't get a chance to access the Net. Again, so very sorry! At least I'm not TOO late, right? ;)

I'm at the library and they're closing in ten minutes and I'm doing this on the quick edit page, but here goes:

Slayergirlkal (sorry, skipping the cool big/small letters this time) ;) heh-heh, happpppy to be back!

MaidenRo - it's more than nice seeing your name up there! I'm very glad to be back and sorry I didn't get around to emailing you the missing chapters before I got around to posting them! Glad you like them, though. :)

Scarlet Ibis - Very glad to read that! And ohhh, need to check that out. Have to undo the not getting the unsigned reviews! Thanks for the heads up!

spiked-gurl - heh, HAPPY! And thanks and great to be back! ;)

Thanks y'all. Hope to see you again! Enjoy...

A.M.L, Annie.

¤

Pick a Word

¤

It was Saturday and the Bronze was happening. The dance floor was packed and there wasn't an available table in the place. Buffy looked around, wondering if she might see Willow. Since there was no obvious sign of the Wicca she followed Spike up to the bar.

"Beer," he said, turning his head to her.

"Tequila."

"Slayer..."

"Tequila," she repeated firmly, seeing a group of people rising from their spot and signing to Spike that she was going for the table.

He gave a nod and she left his side, arriving half a moment before another girl and sinking down on a chair as the other had to head back to her disappointed friends.

"It's a tough world," Buffy philosophized to herself, having her drink be put down before her and she smiled her thanks to Spike.

He watched her as she downed the liquor, suckling on the piece of lime that had come with it and looking out over the crowded room.

"Where'd you get the money?" he asked and her eyebrows rose. "For the furniture," he elaborated.

"College fund," she replied and his eyes grew wide. She had to laugh. "Relax," she smiled. "Totally joking. I wasn't completely broke and it wasn't expensive."

"I could've..."

"No, you would've chosen a bright red couch that would've been too big and a chandelier for the ceiling just for the hell of it and oriental rugs for the floor. My way's better."

"Hmh, kinda like the oriental rugs bit, though."

"Dream on."

"Whose home are we decorating here?"

"And the spider..."

"You can't touch the spider."

"Actually, that's spiders, and... oh, my god, I love this song!"

She was on her feet in the next instant, heading up to the dance floor where she easily began to move with the rhythm of the music. He reluctantly let his gaze find her, and was transfixed. So transfixed that he didn't see the fist being swung at his jaw until it was too late and he was tumbling out of the chair. He spun around, coming face to face with a furious Riley.

"I'm surprised you'd dare show your face here," the human stated, the vampire getting to his feet easily.

"I'm surprised you care to show yours at all."

Riley grabbed him by the collar of the duster.

"If you hurt her..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, mate! Well, I would, but..."

"If you touch her I swear I'll..."

"What? You'll what? And what if she starts it?" Spike asked just as Buffy's voice rang to the side of them:

"What's going on here? Riley. Let him go."

Riley stared at her, slowly doing as she asked and taking a step away from the vampire. The human looked from the Slayer to the Vamp and then turning, almost colliding with Willow before heading to the exit. The redhead fastened her gaze in Buffy's, and the Slayer sighed.

"Hi," she then said and Willow smiled slightly.

"Hi," she said back.

"Care to join us, Red?" Spike asked and she gave him a black look before saying to Buffy:

"I need to talk with you."

"I'm coming," Buffy replied, the Wicca leaving and Buffy stopping before Spike.

Her fingertips lightly brushed his hand as she looked up at him.

"You okay?" she asked and he wondered why his mouth was going dry.

"Takes a bit more than what Soldier boy's got to dent me," he murmured and she smiled a small smile at that, turning and heading in Willow's footsteps.

His eyes didn't leave her back until it was completely swallowed by the crowd.

¤

Buffy had a seat on the couch, which also hosted her two best friends, or so she supposed. Xander's right leg was shaking, and he was twisting his hands. He looked like he was about to have a meltdown. Willow was calm, though, and Buffy chose to focus on her.

"We may have found something," she said and Buffy had her breath catch in her throat. "We need you to stop by Giles' tomorrow."

"Alone, if that's possible," Xander muttered.

Buffy gave him a look, then smiled at Willow.

"Sure, I can do that," she said.

"So, how are things?"

"Fanged, bleached and spinning totally out of control?" Xander added.

"Alright, what! What's up with you?" Buffy asked.

"What's up with me? Right now, nothing's up with me. Everything about me is brought down by the fact that this spazed out version of one of my best friends has inhabited her own body and now is wreaking havoc with the work that she herself has built over a long, long period of time!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That you shouldn't be appearing in bars and swaggering about and dancing for and living with that... that..."

"Yes, what? What is he? You can't even pick a word, can you? So save it." She rose. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said over her shoulder to Willow as she left.

"Evildemonicsadistichatefulfiend!" Xander grumbled and Willow gave him an empathic look.

"You needed to pick one."

"Yeah, I know, I just pulled them together into one big, long one."

¤

Buffy walked aimlessly around the room, feeling weighed down by the mistrust from the people who were supposed to know her the best. She saw Spike speaking with a pretty girl who was seemed completely lost in his gaze and without thinking she headed for the backdoor. Slipping into the alley she leaned against the brick wall and closed her eyes.

Why wouldn't he only be toying with her, she asked herself. Why should she think, for even a second, that the time they'd spent together had had some sort of impact on him? He'd made it pretty clear that he could care less whether she stayed or left, whether she was nearby or...

"Hear only misfits hang around in darkened alleyways," his voice sounded beside her and she jerked, turning her head to him.

He flicked his lighter shut, having just lit a new cigarette.

"Then you heard right," she murmured, though the satisfaction pouring through her at seeing him was quickly beginning to light up her sullen features.

"Friends ragging on you?"

"Or something like it," she answered, exasperated. "They seem to have lost all faith in me... Then again, that faith wasn't in me... it was in her. And she's not here, so they're wigging. I'd be too, so I can't blame them. Though, I wish they'd stop making me feel like I've done something wrong, just by..."

Her gaze met his and she trailed off.

He blew out the smoke, eyeing her.

Finally she looked away, wrapping her arms around herself.

He dropped the cigarette to the ground and reached out a hand. She furrowed her brow, gaze back in his; then she carefully slipped her hand in his. He offered her a small smile and then pulled her with him inside.

They made their way up to the dance floor, the music being soft, slow. He linked their fingers together, getting her to take a step closer. She tilted her head back to look up at him, enjoying the way the dim light of the room played with his features, threw shadows over his paleness and gleam in his blue eyes. They began to move together, swaying, her gaze not leaving his.

His free hand moved up to her cheek, pausing before he let his fingertips gently run down it.

"Let's show them what they're missing," he whispered into her ear.

She smiled slightly, wishing she didn't feel special or selected or any of the things he made her feel. It was a great ride, but what happened when it stopped or broke down or fell apart? She put those thoughts aside and decided to enjoy this moment, hoping that at least this she would be able to remember.

With both hands free she slowly moved them up and around his neck, getting herself even closer to him as his palms slid to place themselves at the small of her back. Her coat had been left at the table, forgotten, and so his fingers with no effort rested directly against her skin.

She was nearly trembling, but her unwillingness to show it won out and she was able to control it.

Her gaze was locked with his again, but she couldn't infer the expression in them. She felt a longing, but was sure that it was only wishful thinking when she thought she saw a reflection of it in his eyes.

¤

"No!" she exclaimed. "No, you can't seriously dub 'Braindead' a valid motion picture! All it has in it is blood and... blood. Hmh, I can suddenly see why it'd appeal to you."

"It's funny!" he defended.

"It is not funny spitting up a whole dog! That's gore, and gore is not valid! I'm telling you, a movie should have a plot!"

"The plot is that there are zombies who bleeding well try to eat the... Oh, forget it," he muttered.

She giggled, taking another mouthful of the coffee she was drinking. They were walking back to the crypt. It was nearly four o'clock and Buffy was happy. She was happy he had stayed by her after her run-in with Willow and over-protective-much Xander. She was happy the vamp had danced with her, and then shared a few drinks with her and then had danced with her again, and then had talked with her and then it had been a little bit of a blur until she was outside with the coffee in her hands.

"What's your favorite movie?" she asked.

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Breakfast at Tiffany's. The ending makes me cry."

She boxed him on the arm and he smirked.

"Do you have any idea how many movies I've seen? Think I can actually pick one and say: this?"

"Fine. My favorite movie is Serpico." He raised his eyebrows. "What?" she wondered. "I love Al Pacino, alright?"

"Alright."

They slowed as they neared their goal, the cemetery resting peacefully around them. Buffy smiled to herself at nothing in particular as they stopped in front of the door which would bring them into their makeshift home.

"So," she said.

"So," he agreed.

He held her gaze for a dragged out second and then simply turned and walked inside, leaving the door open for her. She stood stumped for a moment or two, then snapped out of it.

"What was I expecting?" she mumbled as she entered, shutting the door behind her.

He had already gone downstairs and she put the coffee down on a sarcophagus before walking up to the loveseat still hosting most of her clothes. She changed into a top and pajama pants, wrinkling her nose at the smell of smoke still clinging to her hair and deciding on a shower the next morning; which meant another trip to UCS...

I'll deal with that then, she thought to herself.

Climbing down the ladder she yawned, walking up to the bed and sliding in beneath the covers.

"A pillow never felt this good," she mumbled contentedly. "...Spike?"

"What?"

"Thank you... I really had a good time tonight."

He didn't answer, merely shifted position.

"Spike?"

"What?" he muttered and she smiled at his impatience.

"Sleep tight."

Again he shifted.

"Spike?"

"Slayer."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry... if I make you look bad. I don't get the whole demon thing, but it seemed like you aren't their favorite vampire right now."

"Well, that's their prerogative," he muttered, shifting once more before adding: "And you don't make me look bad. If anything you make me look..."

He trailed off and she turned on her side, opening her eyes and being rather surprised as she rested them in his; his head turned to her.

"Good?" she offered and he smiled.

"I was gonna say 'leashed'."

"Ouch."

He smirked.

"Gotta sleep," he said and she nodded. "Good night, Slayer."

"Can't you call me Buffy? Slayer sounds so terribly impersonal and to be honest – it still creeps me out a little."

His smirk widened.

"Good night, Buffy," he complied silently.

"Good night, Spike," she said, curling up before closing her eyes.

He didn't though. He couldn't, for some reason. He lay there, and watched her fall asleep.

¤

"And then that should break the spell," Willow finished her presentation.

It was close to ten o'clock in the morning and Buffy wasn't feeling too hot. Granted, the shower had perked her up for about twenty minutes, but those twenty minutes had then been used to get to Giles' place and now she was quickly sinking. She needed about eight more hours of sleep and twenty-five cups of coffee. How those two were supposed to mesh was another matter. She kept down a yawn and nodded.

"So... all I have to do is read a poem?"

"It's a chant," Willow said. "Tara thinks it might be powerful enough, and I agree."

"But you don't know for sure?"

"Buffy, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay! I'm not going to risk myself ending up in another different thingy where people might walk upside down and the cows might speak French and who knows what else! I don't want to try anything if it's not absolutely, one-hundred percent safe. And proven. Proven to safely bring me back to my year. I'm sorry. Thanks for all your hard work and... keep at it. Or whatever I'd say. I'll see you later."

She put her sunglasses back on and got off the chair.

Giles watched her as she left, leaning against the kitchen counter as the door closed.

"Bugger," he muttered.

¤

"Calor, you have had your fun. This may prove dangerous for her friends, you do realize that. You cannot tamper with Fate. If she is not where she is supposed to be..."

"Another few days, Ath. And Fate does not let anything mess with it, if the Slayer is supposed to be somewhere, she will be there."

"She will be killed."

"Not necessarily."

"Your vanity will be your downfall."

"The lesson is yet to be learned. Even the Powers would recognize that."

"I will have no more of it."

"You'll miss one grand finale. Pity."

"You are ill."

"I respect the Slayer, do not ever say that to me again! This is for her own good. She must understand that the truth of her has never been what she can do, but what she can feel. What she can see."

"You have done a fine job at rendering her blind, Cal. You are not a fitting teacher in matters of humanity. Leave them be now – I beg of you."

"You should probably leave."

"Indeed."

She left the room in a huff, but he didn't mind it.

"Soon the veil will be lifted and we shall see if you have passed or failed, Slayer. We shall see."

¤

"Forever young. I want to be forever young. Do you really want to live forever? Forever, and ever? Forever young. I want to be forever young..."

"Bloody hell, I'll bite you myself just to make you shut up!"

She turned her head to him with a smile, standing on a chair as she tried to find some way of fastening the curtain rods, which she had bought, to the thick stone wall beside each niche that was the prelude to the windows.

"You're awake!"

"You've been chanting those lines incessantly for fifteen sodding minutes! They were bound to wake me up."

"Thought my voice did that," she remarked, still smiling. "Since you're here, mind helping me with this?"

"What is it?"

"It's for the curtains."

"Curtains?"

"Yes."

"I don't want them."

"But they're marine. They'll go with the couch. They'll keep sunlight out of here during the day."

"Usually, if you can remember, I'm not up much during the day."

"You need curtains."

"I don't need anything of the sort!"

She raised her eyebrows, about to move the rod down when the chair wobbled and she let out a yell as she lost her balance. She was caught by his strong arms, his hold tightening slightly to steady them both before he placed her on her feet. She looked up at him, heart still racing in her chest.

"Thanks," she mumbled; her hands on his arms and he moved a little away from her, eyes holding hers and a puzzled expression drawing over his features before he shrugged.

"Don't do it again," he merely said. "And leave the bleeding curtains where they are. Don't care if they go with the couch. Understand?"

"Gottcha," she nodded and he narrowed his eyes.

"Weren't you supposed to meet with Red?"

"I did. They were all there... telling me how they had this plan for getting me back to the way I was. Or am supposed to be or... whatever."

He tilted his head slightly to one side and she could have sworn he was holding his breath. Then, of course, she remembered he didn't have one. But that look in his eye... Was it disappointment? Anticipation, more likely, at getting her out of there once and for all. Why would he be disappointed! Gosh, she was so silly.

"But it didn't work?" he now asked and she was brought out of her musings as she blinked wonderingly. "Well, you're here, right? So whatever it was they'd planned didn't work."

"No," she agreed. "I mean, I didn't try it. It was some strange spell or other and I didn't feel cool with the whole deal. God knows where I might've ended up! They weren't even sure, and they wanted me to read it!"

"Doesn't sound like the bleeding poof not to be sure," Spike mumbled almost to himself, then he seemed to be back with her because he met her gaze and added: "But it was good that you didn't do anything you didn't think was right. Spells are tricky, you know? Not to be fooled around with. As far as I know Red's not even a real witch yet. 'S good you went with your hunch."

He gave her a nod as underlining and then headed up to the ladder, climbing down it. She stared at the hole for a long moment, then smirked. The smirk soon turned into a frown.

"Willow's a witch?" she asked out loud.