Chapter 22: Confused

Disclaimer: No ownership. I've got most of the DVDs, though!

Rating: I think I'm boring everyone to death repeating the same thing each time. See the first fourteen chapters if you haven't, yet :)

A/N (Apologies for the long wait. I'm just going to blame writer's block and leave it at that. A couple of really hard-to-write chapters ahead and some confusion, so I'd really appreciate if you guys reviewed to tell me what you thought about it quality wise, and any other ideas. Thanks to kim for reviewing! I think I put in the Author's Note a few chapters back that in this AU setting, the Faith body-switch hasn't happened yet. In fact, I'm going to mess around a lot with the time events of chronology for a specific reason, and explain it all later, so be prepared for some things in Season 4 popping up randomly. And yes, you can take the boy out of the army, but not the army out of the boy. : ). And… about Buffy learning to give Spike due credit? I haven't called this eventual Spuffy for nothing! )

By the way… and I feel pathetic for asking, but I was wondering if anyone had heard of this fic I've been trying to chase up for an eternity? It's AU, Spike's a social worker who moves into Buffy's apartment, Joyce is dead (she was a drug-addict) so Dawn, who's been traumatised, comes to live with them. Faith is Buffy's counsellor, and Angel has abused her. It's really bugging me, because it was a great fic and I'd love to read it again… if anyone has any details (author, title, etc) could you please post it in your review or email me? Thanks. I'm sorry for the bother… it's just I'm desperate.

Okay, now onto our regularly scheduled chapter. : ) Hope you enjoy.)

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I went out to get drunk.

No, scrap that. I went out to get bleedin' off my rocker with all the grog I could lay my hands on. Willie's was closed 'cos of a little scuffle I'd had a day or so ago with a few demons who'd started to try to beat up Willie. I needed some violence anyway.

Now, I needed to get very, very, drunk.

So, the Bronze it was, then.

I threaded my way through the bouncing teenagers with no idea of a beat or any concept of the word rhythm, quelling the demon that rose and struggled for dominance. It didn't get easier with time. I needed to push the bloodlust into the very bottom of my… spirit, I guess.

I'd just taken a gulp of my seventh bottle when I saw her. Or rather, I smelt her before I saw her. That vanilla fragrance that danced around her like a bloody… dancer, I guess. She was out on the dance floor, moving her body like…

I swallowed. Other areas of my anatomy began to get rather excited. The way she was moving… it was like fire and ice and wanton abandonment. I'd never seen her that open… that… dirty. It just wasn't like her.

I don't know how long I stared at her, entranced. But then she finally moved off the floor, flushed, and conveniently, slap-bang into me.

"Whoops," Buffy laughed twirling around.

I struggled to maintain my composure. I really didn't want to talk to her tonight. I just wanted to get drunk. But her proximity was starting to…

"Oh, you," I muttered.

She looked at me strangely. "And you."

I felt my defences slip in. Must have been the alcohol making me so touchy. Oh, and the event that led to the consuming of said alcohol. Plus the fact I was already well on my way to being smashed. "What are you doing here, Schlayer? Shouldn't you be looking after Captain Cardboard? Or is he dead, and you're shelebrating?" I wish, I added silently in my head.

"Captain Cardboard?" she furrowed her brow. "Who are you talking about?"

"Scholdier Boy, you know?" I reminded her impatiently. I really didn't want to get into this conversation at the moment. Maybe later. And I was still puzzling over why she'd left him when they'd gotten so sickeningly lovey-dovey…

"Soldier Boy? Oh… the G.I Joe…"

"Very funny, Schlayer" I moved to go past her. She followed me, tilting her head to the left instead of the right…

"You're a vampire," she said.

"Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?" I spun around and stopped her before she could touch me. "You bloody well know I'm a vampire."

"Nothing," she stammered. "It's just…"

"What's wrong, temporary amnesia from lying too much?" I was starting to get angry. Goddammit, could I just get drunk in peace without her popping up? "Let me refresh your memory, Schlayer. I was a vampire. And as soon as I get this chip out of my head, I'll be a

vampire again. But until then, I'm just as helpless as a kitten up a tree. So why don't you sod off?"

"Ok."

Now that got me.

"Oh, fine! Throw it in my face, why don't you Schlayer? Spike goes against his bloody nature for you, and Spike's not a threat and Spike can't help and is a soulless demon who has no feelings. I'll turn my back. He can't hurt me. Not even a little thankyou for leading you to your pathetic little boy-toy!"

She cocked her head again, and then a slow smile spread over her face. "Spike? Spike… William the Bloody with a chip in his head. I kind of love this town."

I glared at her. "You know why I really hate you, Summers?"

" 'Cause I'm a stuck-up tight-ass with no sense of fun?" she asked me sweetly.

My jaw almost dropped. "Well, yeah," I stammered, at a loss for words. It was the alcohol. I swear. "That…that covers a lot of it."

"Cause I could do anything I want, and instead, I choose to pout and whine and feel the burden of slayerness? I mean, I could be rich, I could be famous, I could have anything. Anyone…"

She swung those hips of hers closer, and I swallowed as a new scent broke through the fog of vanilla. She moved closer and I almost jumped when she put her hands on my chest, so soft and warm. Through my inebriated haze, I registered her words.

"Even you, Spike," she drawled. "I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne, and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more. And you know why I don't?"

I swallowed again. "Because of your pathetic little boy-toy?"

She smiled, pursing her lips. "Because it's wrong."

And then before I could do anything, she leaned up slightly and kissed me full on the lips.

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"Dammit," Dawn cursed as she perused her new timetable. "I hate these room changes. Do you have any idea where K114 is?"

"Not a clue," Cassandra replied. "Hey, but Daniel might now?"

"You rang?" Daniel came up behind them, a broad grin on his face. "Guess what? I get International Studies this term…"

"With Melissa?" Dawn asked sweetly, while Cassandra coughed into her sleeve. "No wonder you're happy."

He had the decency to blush. "It-it's not just her, you know," he muttered. "I'm really interested."

Dawn snorted, and then returned to looking at her timetable. "Well, what do you know. I think I have art with her…"

"And Kevin," Daniel put a hand on his heart and faked a swoon, starting to talk in falsetto. "Oh Kevin, my love, we were made… ouch!"

They laughed as Dawn whacked him across the chest, this time blushing furiously herself. "Cut it out!" she whispered. "He might see us!"

"Oh, yeah, from halfway across the school," Daniel noted sardonically. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Just stop it," Dawn whacked him again, and then in an effort to get the spotlight off her, turned to Cassandra. "So? You sharing any classes with the major hottie who makes you get that dreamy-eyed look and who you still haven't told us the name of?"

Cassandra's turn to blush. Blushes all around. "Uh… well… um…"

"That's a yes," Daniel prodded, with a broad grin. "That's a yes, isn't it?"

"I think I have a class with Melissa too, actually," Cassandra averted their amused glances. "Religion."

"Hm… this sucks," Dawn complained. "We've only got English, History, and Maths with all of us together."

"Look on the bright side, at least we have some classes together," Cassandra smiled.

"True," Daniel agreed as they walked towards their lockers. "I mean, remember Opley Junior High? We had like, no classes together."

"Yeah, I remember."

They walked in companionable silence for a while as around them, students chattered and pushed as they poured from various classrooms to flock to the canteen. They deposited their bags and moved to join the crowd as the school cooks dished out various (questionably) edible foodstuffs, and then seated themselves in the corner to eat and watch. The three had established a rather strange reputation. People didn't avoid them, and they weren't part of the 'uncool' group or the 'cool' group. They seemed to have evolved out of the petty social ladder, but various people still came to sit with them sometimes to share in their conversation. Of course, some people hated them with a passion. Like Kirsty, whose sickeningly sweet smile had irritated all three of them upon meeting her.

"Hi, I'm Dawn Summers."

"Oh," Kirsty flicked her hair expertly across her shoulders. "Hi."

Her eyes raked over them with a professional's glance, and then finally settled on Daniel. "My name's Kirsty," she finally proffered.

"Nice to meet you," Daniel glanced at his watch. "Dammit… 3 o'clock. We've got to go. Nice to meet you."

And they'd instantly gone over to Spike's.

A few chance run-ins later and the immediate dislike Kirsty and Dawn developed and the contempt Kirsty layered on Cassandra grew, while she lost hope in Daniel.

"She was so hitting on you that first day," Dawn muttered.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Right."

"It must have been you repeating 'nice to meet you' twice that put her off," Dawn joked.

"Maybe," Daniel replied in a non-committal grunt.

Cassandra had stayed silent.

As the three spoke in whispers about Spike's growing distance now, they felt Kirsty's glare on them from three tables away. Dawn rolled her eyes.

"Queen bitch alert at two o'clock."

"More like three, actually," Cassandra noted.

"Perfectionist," Dawn accused.

"Never really pretended not to be," Cassandra smiled wryly.

Midst their banter, they failed again to notice the same girl, who took a break from laughing with her friends to study them intensely, her eyes dilating as her irises flushed pure onyx with eldritch flame.

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Sweet. She tasted so sweet as she drank me in hungrily and pushed me against the wall. I was stunned for about a second before I attacked her mouth as ferociously as she had jumped me, pushing away the instincts. God, how long had I wanted to do this? Just to feel her around me and have her as…

Mine.

She broke off for air, panting, and I drew in unneeded breath into my lungs as well. A slow smirk crept its way across my face. "Well, Schlayer? Looks like you've finally given in, eh?"

"Yeah," she grinned, and it was completely feral. She licked her lips. "So we goin' somewhere more private?"

We were halfway out of the alley when my instincts, suppressed before by raw lust and the alcohol and… something else I couldn't identify, burst through with a vengeance and started screaming at me. Very loud. She looked up at me as we continued kissing, and I looked back into them

It wasn't her.

The thought slammed into me, sobered me to the point where I could make a coherent decision, and I pushed her away, but not hard enough to fire the chip. I didn't need that adding to my blurred worries. I stared at her.

"You're not Buffy."

Her eyes grew wide for a second, and then snapped frozen. "You're so drunk you don't recognize me, Spikey?" she laughed. Little bint had no idea of how much I'd studied people. Knew when they were lying.

"Who are you?" I advanced towards her. "What have you done with Buffy?"

She snapped. "Dammit! How could a bloody vampire know and not her own mum!"

She hit me, hard. I stumbled backwards, but by the time she'd gotten ready to smash the stake in, I'd processed the words she'd said and I was gone. Joyce. What if whoever was in Buffy's body had hurt Joyce?

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In retrospect, maybe I should have tried to erase the alcohol from my breath when I ran as if Angelus and Darla and the not-as-nice-as-she-is-now Slayer were after me. Joyce noticed it immediately.

"Spike," she said reprovingly. "You've been drinking again. Tell me it's not because ofthat awfulDrusilla."

"Joyce," I sighed in relief, ignoring the slur on my dark goddess. "You're okay…"

And then I sized up the wreck the house was in.

"Joyce! What happened here!"

"It was Faith," she went and sat down on the couch. Most of the shattered glass had been cleared away. "I don't know what happened. She came in here, and she just wanted to talk. I think she was really confused, but then Buffy came and Faith was about to say something when Buffy just flew at her, and they started fighting…"

"What happened!"

"Just a bright flash and then the police came," Joyce shook her head. "Buffy acted a bit strange afterwards, but then she went off on patrol like usual."

I sank down on the couch with her dejectedly.

"Um… Joyce?"

"Yes Spike?"

"I met her about five minutes ago at the Bronze. Or at least, I met Buffy's body."

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She didn't bother to be careful anymore as she hurried through the old building. What did it matter? Even if it fell in on her, that just meant maybe an extra twenty minutes digging herself out. No problem. In fact, if the rest of it fell in, that might be a good thing. Save her from having to guard herself against any pesky interferences. She finally found the room she was looking for, entered, kicked away the clinging scales that were in her way, and sat herself down.

From her bag, she quickly drew out six candles, placing them around her in a circle. Closing her eyes, she began to chant in an unearthly tone, and from beneath her, the earth groaned slowly.

Suddenly, as her chant reached its climax and she was shouting in a hoarse cry, her eyes snapped open. Her pupils were dilated, and her irises were onyx black.

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