Hello all! How wonderful to see so many reviews! I'm absolutely thrilled, thank you so much! It feels so great to be back, I can't even begin to tell you!

Special thanks goes out to sPIKEaNDmE (hey, thanks! More than lovely to read that! And hey, here's a liiiitle bit more. Hope you'll like!) :), MaidenRo (you really want the jealousy bit, don't you? lol Sorry to disappoint, then! Oh, I know, I adore Breakfast at Tiffany's! Audrey Hepburn is fantastic in that movie, and the dialogue and storyline! Fab! Haha, and the Cat thing -true. But Holly Golightly is such a great name too!) ;), Scarlet Ibis (glad you liked! Here's some more...) ;), Coquine (so nice to read that! And I so agree, if I get deleted again I dunno what I'll do!) :( :), ReeseAnn (heh! Crap beaten out of poor Xander! ;) Very happy to see you liked the dancing!) :)

spiked-gurl (aw, he can be, can't he:) So glad you liked!) :), kim (I agree, I agree, I agree. ;) And yes, wouldn't the crypt sing the hymns of the cold and lonely?) ;), SlaYeRGiRLkaL (hey! lol Did you get your hands on some? Coffee, I mean!) ;), Megan/Peta (thank you bunches for those kind words! Always so incredibly incredible to read that someone likes what I do! Seriously, it never fails to warm and comfort! Thank you! Hope you will continue to enjoy!)

To all, you are sooooo wonderful! I was so scared I'd have lost you when stupid admin took the story away, but I'm excited to see so many back, as well as all the new-names!

Hope to hear from you again!

Many thanks and with deepest affections, Annie.

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Sometimes You Have to Try

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The following evening Buffy glanced out the window and noted that dusk had settled over the city. Soon he would be awake. She smiled to herself, checking that all the candles were burning bright. She looked at the coffee table, which she had set ready for dinner. It was so low that they'd have to sit on the cushions she had gotten that afternoon – in exchange for the totally pretty but unwanted curtains – but it was sort of cozy in itself. She had found some nice plates and cups and glasses and a few silverware items for hardly anything at a local store and had now used said things to make a not-so-fancy-but-yet-agreeable spot for them to share the food.

She had gone to the Bronze and picked up some chicken wings, because she knew he liked that kind best.

And she had snuck to the dorm and taken a shower, plus now she had changed into a nice skirt and shirt. It was a plain black skirt and a dull white shirt, but she did admit that they fit her good. She ran her fingers through her hair one last time as she heard him ascend the ladder.

He stretched, barely glancing at her as he headed for the fridge.

"I've already opened one," she said and he halted, turning his head to her, looking quizzical.

She grabbed the cup she had prepared for him from its place on the table and held it up for him to see. He hesitated, then slowly approached her, still looking questioning. She handed him the cup and he sniffed it, eyes not leaving her face.

"It's warm," he said.

"Isn't that the way you prefer it?"

"You... heated it?"

"Yes. I also opened the bag and poured it into the cup, which I happened to purchase today," Buffy replied. "And then I found a place for it amidst all its little mates here on the table," she added with a slight gesture and his eyebrows rose at the sight which met him.

"Wings?"

"From the Bronze."

"You went and got me wings from the Bronze?" he asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? 'Cause I wanted to, that's why. I felt bad for waking you up and having you all annoyed about the curtains and for being in your way even when I promised I wouldn't be and this is just my way of saying... thank you. For letting me stay here."

He took a sip of the blood, finding nothing wrong with it he quickly drank it and once finished he held the cup up to get a better look at it.

"It's cute, isn't it?" she asked, taking a seat on one of the large cushions.

"Very," he muttered, sitting down as well.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said, rising and running into the kitchen, returning with an opened bottle of wine.

"Where'd you get that?"

She smiled, taking her previous place and beginning to fill his glass before she answered:

"I stole it." His eyebrows rose high and she giggled. "For being so terribly smart you're awfully gullible," she stated. "I found it over there."

The last she said with a nod to the kitchen. Soon his face lit up with recognition.

"I got it months ago," he mumbled. "Was supposed to use it when I finally..."

He trailed off, glancing at her and noticing the drifting scent of her freshly washed locks. It blended much too well with the soft touch of musk in her perfume and suddenly he felt light headed. He rose, nearly stumbling passed the couch but regaining his balance and heading for the door.

"I'm sorry," she said, on her feet as well and bounding after him. "I should've gotten you'd been saving it for something special. I didn't mean to... Don't go."

She grabbed his arm and he spun around to face her.

"Let go," he grumbled and at the chill in his gaze she gingerly did as he asked.

"Let me come with you," she pleaded silently.

"Eat your dinner and go to bed. I'll be back in the morning."

"Spike."

But he wouldn't hear her as he walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

She jumped at the harsh sound, standing still for another moment and then getting herself moving to clean up the wasted food. She wasn't hungry. She paused in the movement of picking up her half-filled wineglass, raising it she looked at the light shimmering through crimson liquid. She made up her mind, putting the glass down she proceeded to blow out the candles before she grabbed her coat.

¤

He eyed the chipped black of his nail polish with a critical glare.

Why had he even started the trait? Give his fingers a personal flare? He remembered he had borrowed some from Dru one rainy afternoon when he hadn't been able to sleep. He had splashed it on with no intent of ever doing it again, but Dru had enjoyed it. So he had kept it up until he could do it flawlessly enough to paint hers. She had loved that.

He huffed.

Bleeding loon, he'd have done better if he'd never met her. Then he'd never come to this cursed place. Then he'd never laid eyes on the sodding Slayer.

Why couldn't he get her the hell out of his head?

Focus, mate, he instructed himself. Focus on anything but that blonde, sweet-smelling freak of a little g-...

"Wing?"

He stopped short as she was suddenly blocking his path, holding up the bucket of chicken wings and panting slightly. Bloody hell, she must've run fast.

"No, I don't want any sodding wings!" he answered, taking the bucket from her and tossing it aside, a movement which made her look surprisingly hurt.

"Hey!" she objected. "I wanted some."

He gave her a look and she dared a smile. When he didn't show even an inkling of returning it, she let it fade and crossed her arms over her chest as she observed him. His gaze didn't budge from hers and after a near two minutes of utter quiet she sighed.

"I don't know why I even bother," she finally stated, unlocking her arms and flailing them to the sides. "What am I doing with you? I'm wasting my time! Do you have people you practice your people skills on, because you should have. Now, since you need the for-dummies version I'll let you have it, since I don't have time to waste: I'm standing here, telling you that I, for some reason that's beginning to grow dimmer by the moment, think I'd like to know you."

"Thought you knew me already."

"Thought you said I really don't!" she shot.

"And exactly how do you propose to do this? Talking for hours? Permanently attaching yourself to my buggering hip?"

"Why are you so mean!"

"Because I'm evil!" he exclaimed. "Because you were never meant to be... This was never meant to... Sod it! I want you to gather your things and get the hell outta my crypt!"

"I'll do no such thing, you pig-headed... blonde... stupid... blob!"

"I want to say 'ouch', but it just doesn't apply," he muttered. "Go home, Buffy. This... whatever it was... is over."

He was about to turn from her when she was suddenly right by him, her soft hands clasping themselves firmly to either side of his face, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Tell me you really want me to leave."

"I really want you to leave."

She rested her eyes in his for a lengthened moment, then slowly repeated:

"Tell me you really want me to leave."

He stared down at her, feeling a ripping truth wanting to break through but he growled it away as he pushed her to stumble backwards. She recovered, and when he once more turned to leave she moved forward without thinking, kicking up one leg and hitting him in the small of his back, sending him to his knees. He twirled around and was on his feet in a second.

"This conversation isn't over," she stated.

They appraised one another, Buffy feeling a concentration settle over her that was unlike any she had ever experienced before. Then she moved forward. He met her kicks easily, almost laughing as he grabbed a hold of her ankle in mid-kick and then simply dropped it, taking a step back. She cocked an eyebrow, lunging again and he side-stepped the attack, grabbing her neck and pulling her to him.

"Careful, love, before we say things we don't mean," he murmured in her ear and she put an elbow in his side hard enough to make him let her go.

She twirled around, kicked up a leg and hit him in the chest, making him fall to the ground with a hard thump. He got up with a loud growl, glaring at her and she smiled sweetly, taking a little bow. He took a step forward and then put one palm to his temple, making a face of pure pain.

"Zap," she smirked and he changed into his vamp exterior with another growl of frustration.

"God, Summers, sometimes I just wanna wring your neck!"

"And other times?"

"Come closer and I'll bleeding well show you!"

She held his gaze, then walked up to him without hesitation, stopping with her chest nearly connecting with his, tilting her head back. Her whole stance was so defiant he wanted to shake her. Violently. But the sting still lingering in his neck reminded him that he shouldn't.

"I'm waiting," she said.

"Wouldn't think you'd be one to play unfair," he remarked.

"Oh, you mind?" she shot.

"You haven't got it in you now," he murmured. "I could break you in half."

"Tempting, isn't it?" she asked, then her face grew suddenly solemn as she took a step back. "What did I do? To make you hate me like this? I've seriously tried everything to make you at least tolerate me, but what do I get for it! Fang-face! And wishes of certain death!"

He blinked at her out burst, then changed into his human exterior. She looked at him, still aggravated, but the anger seemed to lessen at his new appearance.

"I'm a demon," he said, voice lowered. "Everything about you says I'm liable to detest and preferably destroy you. Can you get it through your thick skull? It's the way nature made us. Good and evil never coexisted. Never will. You can try all you want; it's just the way it is."

"It's not the way it is," she disagreed.

He shook his head at her, bringing out a fag and lighting it.

She watched him, crinkling her nose up; then she put her hands on her hips.

"You couldn't break that in half!" she stated. His eyes grew as he coughed. "Alright, so make your move! I dare you!"

"You dare me? What are you – fifteen?" he retorted with a smirk. "'Sides, I'm not too fond of the searing ache that'd shoot through my entire head, was I to accept your... dare."

"God, you're so annoying!"

"And you're lacking the moves, sweetheart. Might as well fess up to it."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered. "Where were you going anyway?"

"To Willy's..."

"Let's go to the Bronze," she said. "And no protests from you, I'm all rallied up now. I don't feel like going to bed. Take me dancing and I'll forget all about the passed hour."

He looked at her.

"Is it always that simple?"

"If you make it," she answered firmly.

"Some things you can't force, Buffy."

"Sometimes you have to try, Spike."

He watched her as she came up to him and then walked past him, continuing on her way. Eventually he followed, reluctant to join at her side and yet finding himself there, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

¤

"And what if trying to force it doesn't work?" he asked.

It was two hours later and they had finally snatched a couch at the Bronze, having had to wait for half an hour. Buffy had been dancing for over an hour, but had relinquished to thirst and decided to join Spike at the bar. The club was packed, but nobody minded – this was why they came there, after all.

Buffy brought her legs to the side, folding them under her and making herself more comfortable as she took a sip of her drink before answering his question.

"Then you try not forcing it. And if that fails you turn to shaking the living daylights out of it 'til all bad memories are gone and left are nothing but the good ones."

He was shocked at her optimism.

"I am shocked at your optimism."

"Please! People are way too into the whole grudge hoopla. Holding a grudge is the worst thing a person can ever do, both to others and themselves! I mean; imagine a son that has a fight with his dad when he's seventeen and then doesn't talk with him for the rest of his life! It's insane! They both miss out on having each other's company on birthdays and weddings and anniversaries and holidays. No, here's the formula – you say what you mean, and mean what you say, but you listen to other's opinion. See, listening is key. A lot of misunderstandings could be avoided if people learned to listen a bit more to one another. Take this situation right here, for example. If my mother had listened to me I wouldn't 've run off to live with you."

"Right," he cocked an eyebrow. "And 'ere I was thinking you came solely for the company."

"Oh," she smiled, patting his arm, "that too," she stated honestly.

There was silence for a short while, then he asked:

"Think you'll see Red?"

"Might, I guess..." Buffy shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. After the freakathon last time I'd rather stick with you."

"Cheers to that," he smirked, clinking his beer bottle against her glass. He took a mouthful, swallowing it down as he rested his eyes in hers. "You were very different," he then murmured, the music almost drowning him out and she frowned wonderingly. "When you were younger," he elaborated. "You're... older now. A bit wiser, even. But not as..."

She held his gaze.

"Not as what?" she pressed and he finally shook it off as nothing.

She swallowed the last of her drink and rose, grabbing his hand.

"Where are we going?"

"You're gonna dance with me."

"I've got half a bleeding beer left!"

"So let it bleed! I'll buy you a new one! Come on!"

He had no more protests to offer and let her drag him onto the dance floor.

The music was pumping from the speakers and she twirled around before beginning to move to the rhythm. He stared at her, about to turn and walk back to the couch when the music switched and became slower; languorous tones drifting like smoke on water, softly stroking his sensitive ears until he felt as though his being was jiving to its gentle beat.

Buffy had her back to him now, her arms raised above her head as she snaked to the sound, her shoulder blades scraping his chest. He closed his eyes, but opened them in the next moment. Clenching his jaws together he still couldn't stop his hands from moving to her hips, and then sliding forward, over her waist and to her stomach. His face was suddenly next to hers as he bent forward slightly, his lips nearly brushing her shoulder.

He was losing himself.

He fought to regain power, but she carefully turned around in his arms, her head tilting back as her nose graced his, a small smile gliding across her mouth as her hands found their way around his neck.

And so he again found himself on the dance floor of the Bronze with this creature in his embrace – though this nearness had never been intended. He felt her heart beat pounding against his ribcage. Sensed her blood pulsating through every corner of her. Her life enveloped him, and for the first time he didn't fight it. He stared into eyes of green and let them mesmerize. Let them take him away.

His lips drifted towards hers more than once, and every time there was something in the back of his head that still had a voice screaming so loud it stopped the movement.

The moment he scented her arousal was when he woke himself out of the daze and brought her arms down so he could step away from her.

"Songs finished," he said.

"So it is," she agreed, producing a weak smile, her arms going around her and the sudden insecurity on her palpable. "What time is it?"

"Eleven."

"I'm tired."

"So go home."

"I am. I mean, I will. I was."

"Alright, then."

"Okay."

He stood still for another few seconds before turning and heading up to the bar. She watched him leave and sighed to herself. The way he had been looking at her and the way he had just held her... it had made her whole body feel weak. She felt like she was trembling as she made her way up to the coat check-in. She didn't want to leave! But she couldn't stay now without looking foolish and so she handed her ticket over and got her coat, proceeding outside.

She wondered which way was fastest. She was pretty good at keeping coordinates in her head, but it seemed every night they went to the club they took a different route. She stood hesitating when Spike stopped at her side. She turned her head to him in unhidden surprise.

"Going on how you're fighting these days I think it's best I come with you," he said, taking a drag on the cigarette in his hand.

"Aw, so you do care," she smiled, having him give her a look.

"If you don't want me to, I'll just head back in..."

"No!" she stopped him, taking a hold of his arm. "This is nice."

He gave her a slight smirk at that and they began to walk.

"So, demons," she said. "Why are they so bad?"

"Birth defect."

"Yeah, by the looks of them I'd say that's about right."

He smiled, finishing the fag and tossing it with a flick of his wrist.

"That could start a fire," she pointed out, crossing his path and walking up to the stub, stepping on it.

He chuckled and she turned back to him.

"It's the way doing what's right is stamped on your forehead," he explained. "Doing what's wrong is a demon's privilege – one which most enjoy to its full extent."

"Mh, like you," she said and he wasn't sure he liked the sarcasm in her voice.

"Why won't you believe that? I have done everything in my power to show you exactly what I am."

"Mh," she said again. "Is that what you've been doing?"

She started walking again and he joined her, eyeing her profile and wondering what the bleeding hell was wrong with this girl's head!

"What's that supposed to mean?" he finally caved in.

"Action speaks about ten thousand megatons louder than words," she simply replied, then she smiled warmly and started running. "I'll race you to the playground!" she called over her shoulder.

He rolled his eyes at her, but couldn't back down from the challenge and was soon closing in on her. She was laughing, rounding a corner and stumbling onto the grass surrounding their destination. She lost her balance and fell, bringing him with her as he was going too fast to stop cold turkey and tripped over her feet. She was still laughing as she rolled over onto her back, looking up at the starlit sky.

He didn't want to smile, but did it anyway.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she mumbled. "I wish I knew more about the names... I always wanted to learn."

"My mum..."

He trailed off, suddenly realizing how easily it was for him to just start babbling about anything that came to mind whenever she said something as simple as this! Checking the urge he bit his jaws together and refused to look at her when she propped herself up on one elbow, waiting for him to continue.

Suddenly she reached out a hand, her fingers touching his forehead and he grabbed her wrist in a tight grip, bringing it away.

"Grass," she mumbled as an explanation, clearly taken aback.

"Let's get off it then," he said, rising.

She looked up at him and he fought the impulse to help her to her feet by walking up to the swing set. She silently stood and soon came up to him, observing his back for a few moments before she walked around him and took a seat on one of the swings.

The last time they had been there she had killed her first vampire.

Well, she supposed it wasn't actually her first, but...

"I wonder why I'm here," she said out loud, not wanting to expect a response from him since he seemed set on clamming up on her.

But it came.

"That is the universal question."

Her eyes met his and she had to smile. He returned it, though it was a weak excuse, and then he reached for his pack of cigarettes.

"Please," she said. "Spare me just this once."

He hesitated, then quietly complied. She smiled her thanks, looking away from him and being unsure of why she felt so awkward.

"You're a contradiction," he said, having her gaze in his again as she raised her eyebrows. "You say you don't believe in holding a grudge, but you're staying with me to get back at your mother, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not... The reason I left was you... because I couldn't see you. She wouldn't let me. I'm not staying away 'cause I'm mad at her. And she knows that."

He tried to swallow what she had just said, but had difficulty with it. Why did she have to be so honest about every single thing!

"Slayer..." he began, but she got to her feet with a yelp and he swirled around to see what it was that had her so spooked.

Three vampires were deliberately making their way towards them.

"Wonderful," he muttered. "Get your stake," he added to Buffy. Her eyes widened. "You did bring your stake, didn't you?"

She looked guilty and he growled as he turned to face the approaching demons.

"Can't you just ask them to go away? Courtesy of everybody wearing fangs, or something?" she hissed.

"Oh, now she likes the fangs?" he scoffed, bracing himself for the attack.

The three moved forward at once, two heading for Buffy while one met the kick of Spike. The bleached turned his head to the Slayer, who was backing away from her assailants, her eyes going from one to the other.

"Okay, boys..." she murmured. "Which one's first?"

They exchanged a glance and then both drew back one arm to deliver a punch each.

"Oh," she said, ducking just in time and kicking out one leg, hitting one on the shin.

She straightened up and stomped the other on the foot before she turned and ran.

"Buffy!" Spike yelled.

"Just want a more open spot!" she shouted back, her heart hammering away in her bosom as she tried to think of what to do.

In the middle of that thought something hard hit her behind her right knee and she fell to the ground in a heap. Rolling over onto her back her eyes grew round right before another awesome kick was delivered, this one to her side. Another one hit her leg and she curled herself instinctively into a ball, closing her eyes.

There was sound of growling, then punches hitting bodies, and then the kicking stopped. She sat up immediately, seeing Spike fight off one of the vamps while the other pulled a sword from a sheath it had been wearing slung over one shoulder. Buffy stared at the scene as though it was in slow motion, then she got to her feet and began running.

The vampire was raising the sword, aiming it at Spike's neck just as the blonde put a stake through the heart of the other vamp. The sword began to cut through the air and then the Slayer reached Spike, pushing him hard, out of the way. She swirled around, kicking her leg up and hitting the other vampire on the cheek. She heard the clanking sound as the sword fell to the pavement beneath their feet, and then the thud as the vampire went after it. A moment later the weapon was in her hands and she brought it into the chest of the demon, making it burst into ashes as she pulled the sword out again.

She was breathing hard, staring at the spot for the longest minute and then bringing the blade up before her face. She stared at its bloodstained surface.

"Didn't think vampires bled," she mumbled to herself just as the searing pain began throbbing from the wound in her shoulder.

She blinked, going down on one knee.

The last thing she remembered was being lifted by two arms and the distant scent of his leather duster.