The new vampire pulled himself from the ground and looked up, surprised to see two strangers standing at the foot of his grave. He looked around at the earth surrounding him, still encasing his legs.

"Uh. Gimme a hand?" he asked them.

Buffy rolled her eyes and offered her hand to the newbie, pulling him out of the ground effortlessly.

"Thanks," the vampire said. His face morphed into the disfigured mask of the demon within him, and he lunged.

Buffy dodged with inhuman speed, then pulled back with a punch of her own. Spike saw her face change as well; even as a vampire, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. Her speed had definitely increased, and the punch she landed on the face of her opponent looked like it had given him whiplash. Spike almost felt sorry for the bloke.

"What the hell?" he asked Buffy. "We're on the same side."

Buffy grinned toothily at him. "Guess again." She advanced, arms up in anticipation of the next attack.

The new vampire tried to swing at Buffy again, only to find that connecting a punch was going to be insanely difficult. Buffy backhanded him and he went sprawling. Spike expected her to stake him then, but it seemed Buffy was enjoying the fight. She waited for the vampire to get up and continued her assault.

Spike leaned up against a headstone with his arms crossed, content to watch her. She was like a panther in her movements, entirely sure of what she was doing. He watched her kick the new vamp several yards away, stalking after him for her next attack. The bloke looked like he was about ready to run away.

"Pet, maybe you should think about staking him, hm?" Spike suggested. Buffy pouted slightly, but staked the vampire.

"Woah. What a rush!" Buffy said, coming to join him by the headstone he was leaning on. "That was definitely . . . a lot more exhilarating than it was before."

"It's the demon," Spike explained. "Demons were made for violence. You'll crave it." At the crestfallen look on her face, he laughed. "Don't worry about it, love. Violence follows you everywhere anyway."

"True," Buffy said, nodding slightly. A snap alerted them to another presence in the cemetery, and they rounded a corner around a mausoleum- almost walking into a demon in the process.

The demon was about seven feet tall, humanoid, and pale green in color. It had two short horns atop its head, long claws, and a face only a mommy demon could love. It turned to look at Buffy and Spike, pausing momentarily before going after Buffy. It raised its arm to swing at her, but she kicked it squarely in the chest, forcing it to take a step back. One step back, however, wasn't enough to deter it from attacking again. Buffy's face shifted again, and she growled at the demon. The demon stepped forward and grabbed her before either she or Spike could do anything, raising her above its head and throwing her several yards away.

Buffy got to her feet, obviously stunned. Spike had taken over assault of the demon, throwing a punch at it and immediately recoiling in pain. Spike shook his hand, swearing loudly; the demon felt like it was made of iron.

Buffy pulled a short knife from her belt and rushed the demon again, snarling as she approached him. Spike held the demon in place and she rammed the blade home, deep into his torso. The demon growled at her viciously, but was far too injured to fight. Spike released his hold on it and it dropped to its knees before slumping to the ground.

Buffy was panting, breathless from the impact of being thrown to the ground. Her chest was heaving as it filled with unnecessary breath, and her lip was bleeding slightly. She was the most beautiful and deadliest creature Spike had ever seen. Without thinking, he strode forward, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

He felt her freeze, surprised by the gesture. After a second, to his utter disbelief, she was kissing him back. He could taste the sweetness of her blood from her wounded lip, though that was furthest from his mind. He marveled at how soft her lips were, the ferocity with which she kissed him. I've been staked and gone to heaven.

He pulled away after a moment and stared at her, astonished. He knew her cheeks would have been red if blood still flowed in her veins.

"Um," she said, wiping at her mouth. "Well."

"Yeah," Spike sighed, still stunned.

"Well, we'd . . . we'd better get going." Buffy turned and walked the opposite direction, picking up the knife she had dropped. Spike smiled slightly and followed her.


"Four vamps and a demon," Buffy said, taking her coat off. "That's a little excessive." She hung her coat on the hook near the door and locked up. It was about two AM, and they had finally decided to go home after finding various vampires roaming around.

Spike hadn't missed that she had been ever more quiet than usual during the remainder of their patrol. He wondered if kissing her had been a mistake, then decided he didn't care. He wouldn't have traded anything in the world for that kiss, even if that was the only one he ever got. He also knew better than to push her about it right now, when she was so worked up from patrolling. Best give it a bit. It was with this in mind that he refrained from saying much, kicking off his boots so as not to damage the carpet and shrugging off his duster.

Tara was asleep on the couch in the living room, sitting straight up. The television was still on. Buffy smiled slightly and went to her, moving her gently into a laying position and covering her up with the blanket that was kept on the back of the couch. She turned the T.V. off.

Buffy led the way upstairs, leaving the lights off so as not to disturb Dawn, who appeared to be in bed. Spike knew from the lack of snoring coming from her room that she was still up, waiting to make sure her sister had come home safely. He saw from the look on Buffy's face that she realized this, too.

"Dawn, I'm fine," she called softly as she ascended the stairs. "Go to sleep. Love you."

"Love you too," came the slightly muffled sound of Dawn's voice behind her bedroom door.

Buffy and Spike went into Buffy's bedroom, where Buffy opened the drawers to her dresser and took out gray pajama bottoms and a black tank top.

"I need to go take a shower," she told Spike, looking slightly uncomfortable at the idea of being naked with him in the house, even behind closed doors. He had to admit that this caused a reaction in him, which he desperately tried to hide from Buffy. She turned and left the room without waiting for a response, and he growled in frustration, trying his hardest not to imagine her petite body nude and soaked with water. He tried to think of something else, pushing the image from his mind. It was hard enough to control himself, without adding images of Buffy naked, which turned into Buffy naked with him. His pants had become uncomfortably tight.

While she was in the shower, Spike glanced around her room, something he hadn't had the chance to do before. It took his mind off less pristine thoughts. There were many pictures on her dresser of her friends and family, including one with her and a man he could only assume was her father. He noticed that the room was mildly girly, surprising for a Slayer. There was a bookshelf in her room, though there weren't many books on it. Mostly classics that he was sure she'd had from her younger years at the behest of her parents: Romeo and Juliet, Pride and Prejudice, although there were a couple new ones. Might have to get her to read a bit more, now she's got the time during the day, he mused. He noticed another book on the shelf and pulled it. The cover was plain brown, and upon opening it he noticed handwriting in it. His eyebrows rose; this was clearly Buffy's diary. Checking the dates written there, he found that it was several years old, dating back to 1997. Curious, he took it to the bed and sat, opening it to the first page, dated September 1997.

I can't believe I'm so nervous about being back in Sunnydale, the first line read. I know I'm freaking out. Last spring with the Master shook me up. I'm trying not to let my friends see, and I'm especially trying not to let Angel notice. Spike's nostrils flared slightly at the mention of his sire's name. Everyone expects me to be this strong person. I'm not. I want more than anything to be normal. I don't know how to deal with this.

A few weeks later: I can't believe this. First, Parent-Teacher Night. Obviously wasn't going to go very well, thanks to the slaying that takes up almost every waking hour of my life. Then, to make matters worse, a new vampire shows up in town, and not just the average kind. Seriously strong and dresses like a Billy Idol wannabe. Giles says he's serious bad news, and Angel knows him. He's not very old, but he's already killed two Slayers. Honestly, he really scares me. He's not like these other vamps—he's not predictable at all, he's adaptable, and when I fought him tonight he might have killed me if my mom hadn't walked in and smacked him with an axe. My mom, of all people! Gotta hand it to her, though. For all the momishness, the woman's a badass.

Spike's eyebrows had been raised throughout the entire paragraph. He's had no idea he'd scared her—she seemed infallible in her bravery. He was slightly surprised to find that he was upset with himself for frightening her. He had no regrets about killing the other Slayers—it was who he was, and the Slayers had loved the fight just as much as he did. But the thought that he frightened Buffy. . . it bothered him. He wanted her to trust him. He chuckled a bit, though, at her vernacular; he could almost hear her saying the words, in her teenage-speak. Her handwriting was large and stylized. Very Buffy-ish.

He flipped a few more pages, finally settling on one several months ahead. Angel's name had caught his eye again.

Ms. Calendar's gone. Angelus murdered her. I don't know what to do. Giles is absolutely heartbroken, and it's my fault. If I had staked him when I had the chance, none of this would have happened.

That was all there was to that entry. Spike felt his heart tug, recalling when that had happened. Looking back on it, Spike realized that she had been just a kid. No child should have had to endure what Buffy did. She had been close to the Niblet's age when she had been called; he imagined Dawn fighting vampires day in and day out, and shook his head sadly. He admired Buffy's strength and her courage all the more for it. He knew she survived so well because of, and for, her friends and family. She had matured in both her mindset and her fighting abilities.

His sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the water shutting off and the shower curtain being dragged back. Spike hurriedly rose from the bed and placed the diary back on the shelf, being careful to put it back exactly how it had been lest Buffy realize he had moved it. They may have been on good speaking terms, but Spike had a nagging feeling she wouldn't think twice about kicking his ass if she knew he had been prodding through her things. Best not tell her about the stolen panties then, he though with a smirk. He sat back down on the bed, awaiting the Slayer's arrival.

She came in about a minute later, clad in the pajamas she had grabbed earlier. Her hair was wet from the shower and slightly unkempt, and she had no makeup on. Her golden skin still glowed somehow, though it was paler than it had been when she was human.

She looked glorious.

She looked at Spike sitting on the edge of her bed, clearly uncomfortable. She toyed with the ends of her hair absentmindedly.

"Look, pet," Spike said before she could say anything. "I'm sorry about earlier." He wasn't—not by a long shot—but he knew that she wouldn't come near him if she were uncomfortable around him. The kiss they had shared had been astonishing—and she had kissed him back. Spike wanted to feel it again. So, patience. Hell, he had stayed in a wheelchair for months to outsmart Angelus; waiting for Buffy a little while longer would be no more difficult. Theoretically. Angelus didn't have astonishingly glorious breasts.

She looked slightly more relaxed at his apology. She moved further into the room and sat on the bed next to him, still keeping her distance. Spike noticed that her muscles seemed less tense than he had ever seen them in his presence.

"So, uh," he said awkwardly. "I can sleep on the sofa tonight, if you'd like." He silently screamed at himself for suggesting it; the absolute last thing he wanted was to be on the couch, away from Buffy. He could behave himself if necessary. But he wanted to make Buffy comfortable, and if that meant staying away for a night…

"No," she said softly. "That's not necessary. I can't. . . I don't want to be by myself." She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "As long as you can behave," she said pointedly. Spike nodded. Buffy pulled the covers back and settled into one side of the bed, making enough room for him on the other. He gratefully climbed under the comforter with her, still fully clothed. Buffy noticed this and smirked slightly.

"You know, if this is going to be a normal thing, we really oughta get you some PJ pants." She giggled slightly, a noise that took Spike by surprise. He found that he loved the sound.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, unable to keep a slight smile from his lips.

"You in PJs." She giggled again, shaking her head. Spike rolled his eyes.

"Maybe some manly sweatpants," he said, pretending to scowl. Still chuckling, Buffy rolled onto her side, back facing Spike.

"Goodnight," he heard her whisper.

"Goodnight, love," he said. He listened to her breathing, which quickly became slow and even. When he was sure she was asleep, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her gently against his chest before falling asleep with her.


A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to post! I'll be updating more frequently, hopefully. Keep the reviews coming!