I do not own Buffy. any original characters, places, plots, or quotes belong to Joss Whedon and Co.

Buffy walked home in a daze. She didn't see the street passing by around her, didn't scan the side alleys for those signature tingles like she usually did. Spike had been smart enough to take the long way back to his crypt, giving her a five minute head start and letting her walk home alone. Now she seemed to have shut down, her world shrinking until only a handful of people and a handful of things and a handful of words existed.

She was going on a date. A date with a vampire. With Spike. As Buffy walked, a sort of shocked, dumbfounded expression came over her face, one eyebrow rocketing skywards as her jaw dropped and her head shook in denial. How had this happened? What was she doing? A date?! With Spike?!

The only thing she could do was justify it to herself.

If she got through this, he was gone.

There was something underneath that, some small, cold feeling way down deep in her stomach that she didn't want to examine too closely. Vaguely defined, she let the idea that she was just used to Spike being around ease that feeling. And she told herself that if she got through this, he was gone. No more following her around, no more getting in her way, no more saying things… Stepping inside 1630 Revello, she hung her jacket on the hook and stood in the middle of the hallway, completely unable to go a step farther. Willow and her mother's voice rang out from her left, calling her name and her attention.

"I'm fine," she murmured, turning to face them, still feeling half out of the world. "I'm fine."

"What happened?" Joyce asked, guiding her daughter to a seat on the couch. "Sweetie you look awful!"

"Did he hurt you?" Willow asked frantically, sitting down at her side and grabbing one of her hands.

"What?" Buffy asked. "No! He wouldn't do that…"

"Oh right," Willow reminded herself. "He can't."

"That's not what I…"

Buffy trailed off, closing her eyes and shaking her head to clear it. What had she said? "I'm losing my mind," she muttered.

"Buffy, what are you talking about?" Joyce asked. "What happened?"

And then all of a sudden, it was just silly, meaningless nonsense. "Well," she smiled, blinking at her mother and her friend robotically, "I found out that Spike is in love with me and we're going on a date."

"You're what?" Willow yelped, hopping back from Buffy.

"Buffy, you can't be serious," Joyce responded with concern.

"It's not like I want to," she defended. "I mean it's… Spike."

"Well what do you mean, he loves you?" Willow demanded. "I mean, did he actually say the words? I. Love. You?"

Buffy grimaced. "I didn't let him get that far," she confessed. Maybe she should've. That… that had probably had been cruel.

"Sweetie did you… I don't know," Joyce began tentatively, "Unintentionally lead him on in any way? Send him signals?"

Buffy thought back for a moment. "I do beat him up a lot," she confessed. "For Spike that's like, third base.

"Well, I don't like it," her mother worried. "This could get dangerous."

"Hey!" Buffy frowned. "I can handle Spike! At least…" she frowned thoughtfully, "When he wants to kill me I can. And besides, as long as it's still 'chips ahoy' in his head, he can't hurt me, or any of us."

Willow looked at Buffy with frantic, worried eyes. "But," she said, "A… a date! I mean…"

"Yes, really Buffy," her mother said, standing up and crossing her arms as she looked down at her daughter, "I don't think it's wise to lead him on like that. And whether he truly likes you or not, it seems rather cruel."

Buffy looked up sharply, her mother's abrupt change in tack setting her head spinning. She was mad at her now? For… for leading him on?!

"And dangerous!" Willow tacked on after a minute, clearly as confused by Joyce's strange concern as Buffy was. "There's no telling where this could lead."

"If it leads where I want, it'll get Spike out of my hair for good," Buffy grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How do ya figure?" Willow asked with a yelp. "If he thinks you're willing to go on a date with him he…"

"Will!" Buffy interrupted, turning and grabbing her friend's hands tightly in an effort to bring this freak fest to a crashing halt. How had this happened? Dear God, she was trying to explain a date with Spike to her best friend. "It's a bet! Ok?"

There was a dead silent pause, still and heavy as the two women stared at her with confusion.

"Huh?" Willow managed.

"What do you mean Buffy?" her mother asked more gently.

"I mean, the only reason I'm going out with him is on a bet!" she explained with exasperation. "God, what?" she demanded. "You thought I'd just go out with him for no reason?"

Joyce tilted her head and raised her eyebrows in a sort of manner that made Buffy think she thought that it was a remote possibility.

"Eww!" she cried defensively. "No! It… look if he loses, he has to leave me alone, ok? Forever. No more stalking me." Willow and Joyce stared at her in a silence that Buffy couldn't read, and suddenly she felt like she had to explain herself. "I… I thought it was worth it."

"Buffy," her mother warned, caution heavy in her tone, "This sounds like a very bad idea."

"Yeah Buffy," Willow added carefully, "I'm not sure this is… honestly I really have no idea what this is."

"I don't either," Buffy huffed, more to herself than anyone else. So she tried again. "All I have to do is get through this sham of a date and then I win the bet and Spike leaves me alone. Finally."

Joyce tutted. "Well I think that's terrible."

Buffy looked at her mother in consternation and annoyance. Turning to Willow with the hope of some kind of support, she found another frown waiting for her. Sighing, Buffy dropped her head into her hands, her face hidden by her hair. This was a mistake, a bad, bad mistake, and she didn't know what to do, how to fix it.

"What do I do?" she murmured.

"Sweetie I think you need to put an end to this," Joyce said softly. "I think you need to go find him and set the record straight. At the very least he deserves the truth; to know that you don't return his feelings."

"He's not supposed to have feelings!" Buffy snapped angrily, and Joyce frowned.

"I think your mom's right Buffy," Willow seconded. "I mean, bet or not, this is Spike we're talking about. I don't think it's a good idea to be giving him any kind of encouragement."

"You're probably right," Buffy mumbled, sitting up again. "God, what was I thinking?"

Getting to her feet, Buffy moved into the hallway and pulled her coat back on. "I'll go talk to him," she said. "And besides, you know, maybe this… this whole thing's just been blown way out of proportion and he's already back to wanting me dead."

"Here's hoping," Willow quipped, crossing her fingers.

Buffy replied with a wry smile, fixing the collar of her jacket and making sure her stake was still in the pocket. Glancing between Joyce and her daughter, Willow got off the couch and moved to Buffy's side, lowering her voice. "Umm, Buffy," she asked tentatively, "I was just wondering… what would Spike have gotten, if he'd won?"

Buffy paused, debating whether she should tell Willow the truth. No doubt it was much less gross or gruesome than whatever was going through the redhead's brain.

"It's not important," she answered finally. "He's not going to get it."

Nodding to her mother, she skirted around her friend and walked out the door.

It took her less than fifteen minutes to get to the Restview Cemetery where Spike was staying, and she took her time getting there. She meandered, stopping to slay a lone fledgling stumbling up the street, doing everything she could to put off the inevitable. The more she thought about it, the less this seemed like a good idea. She didn't think Spike would take it well, her backing out of their bet after she's agreed to it, struck the deal and offered up her agreement to the terms. No, she didn't think he would react well at all. Going through with the thing seemed the smarter solution, the safer solution; hell, even if he won, which he wasn't going to, she thought it would probably end better than this little powwow would. But by the time she hit the cemetery gates she was still undecided, confused and more than a little annoyed, and she knew that one thing that would make her feel better was to go a few rounds with the vampire in question. He'd be easy to provoke to it, and she could work off a little steam by knocking him around a little.

She had a second to reflect that that really wasn't a healthy way to think when raised voices caught her attention. Ducking behind a tombstone, she looked around the edges to see Spike standing in front of his crypt, the moonlight making his bleached hair glow. He seemed to be talking to someone, and by edging out a bit from behind the grave marker, she was just able to make out the dark, slim figure behind him. Her blood ran cold.

It was Drusilla.

Everything went still for Buffy until Spike's voice seemed to cut through the fog, his words floating over to her on the tiny breeze that trickled through the cemetery. He sounded a bit sad, a bit forlorn, and his tone made her listen.

"I'm in love with the Slayer Dru," he admitted. "Dying for her. Drowning in her."

Buffy swallowed, equal parts horrified and astounded as he made this confession to the vampiress who had made him, who he had loved and devoted his everything to for almost a century. A light, dancing giggle marred the incredulity of that moment, and the Slayer felt a bright flare of anger at Spike's sire for laughing, though she wasn't sure why.

"Could do without the laugh track, Dru," she heard him snap.

"But it's so funny," she said, her voice still the same; ethereal, dissociated, childlike. "I knew. I knew… before you did. Pixies in my head whispered it to me."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. She knew that Dru got visions, even knew that sometimes those visions were accurate, but had she really seen Spike falling in love with her? She couldn't have. He couldn't really…

"There's a little spark in you," she continued, and Buffy perked up her ears again. "It's new. But it burns. So bright! She put it in you. Doesn't it hurt you, my sweet Spike? Doesn't she hurt you?"

"What are you on about?" Spike demanded defensively, and Buffy had to bite down on her tongue to keep from seconding him.

Cause those were her thought exactly! What the hell was she talking about? Buffy hadn't done anything to Spike, at least, nothing to do with sparks. Not since she'd sent him flying into that organ years ago and caught the church on fire.

"Hope, my dark and deadly boy," Drusilla purred. "Hope. Vile spark that burns like fire, filling you up so that you taste like ashes. Like her."

Buffy watched as Drusilla stepped closer to Spike, suddenly enrapt by the interplay between the two, so familiar with each other, so easy. As she moved forward, he moved back, a smooth and steady exchange over a century old, a dark dance between the dead.

"We could fix that," the dark vampiress smiled, so quiet that Buffy almost missed the words. "The sun can always be eclipsed. And what is that star when it's burnt out? Ashes. Useless bit of charcoal, no good for naught. The electricity stops you, but doesn't have its claws in me. I'd do it for my darling boy."

Buffy's stomach dropped. Drusilla was offering him a way out, a way to be what he used to be, who he used to be, and Buffy had no doubt that he would take it. Why wouldn't he? Not for a moment did she think that his confession of love for a Slayer would trump what he'd had with Dru, or the draw of murder and battle and bloodshed to a Master vampire, the Slayer of Slayers no less. And for some reason, that stung. Her hand tightened painfully around her stake and she prepared to stand, prepared to do her job and stop the return of William the Bloody even though she suddenly felt like she couldn't catch her breath. She was brought up short when Spike lunged forward, grabbing his sire by the throat and lifting her off her feet, snarling in her face as she choked and grasped, clawing at his arms as he throttled her.

"Don't even think it Dru!" he thundered, his rage palpable even from a distance as he shook her viciously. "You don't go near the Slayer! Understand?" Suddenly, as though he couldn't stand to touch her for another moment, Spike threw her away from him, towering over her as she coughed and spluttered, her hands on her neck.

"There's only one way it would end," he warned, his tone low and deadly. "She'd kill you… or I would."

Buffy clasped a hand tight over her mouth to stifle a gasp. There was no mistaking the sincerity of what he'd said, and it rocked her to her toes. He meant it; he would kill Drusilla before he let his sire hurt her. So utterly twisted and confused by what she had just witnessed, Buffy only just saw Drusilla fade away into the dark as she turned, sprinting out of the cemetery and back up the street towards home. Halfway there she had to stop, to bend over and clutch at her stomach as her chest heaved and her knees buckled, sending her down hard onto the pavement. For a long time she fought off what must have been a panic attack, desperately sucking in air as she tried to stop the shaking in her hands. When she was able to stand once more, she crawled to her feet and stumbled the rest of the way home, thankful to be greeted by a dark and silent house. Creeping up to her bedroom, she didn't bother with the lights, or with her clothes, or even with her shoes. She just slipped beneath the covers and fell into a light and troubled sleep.