Author's Notes: Here is chapter five. Writing the scene between Spike and Angel was actually fun, more so than with Buffy and Angel, which is weird. Ha. Anyways, this story will continue as long as the ideas come pouring in. As far as I know, Willy will be featured in this story. He doesn't appear in enough fanfics, so I guess I'm taking pity on him. Anyways, enjoy!

In the shadowed corner near the drinking establishment, he inhaled a fume of smoke into his lungs, his frigid hands clasping together impatiently, anticipating for his next source to arrive. He unconsciously wiped the last traces of dried blood from the corners of his mouth. A sneer was pressed on his lips, his mouth and fangs glistening with saliva that was staining his velvet button down shirt. He became weary.

"Would you calm the hell down, mate? You're not doin' us a favor by walking across back and forth like a bloody guard, ya know?" came the accented voice of William, balled fists hidden in the destroyed leather pockets of his trench coat, the urge to seek violence against his grandsire on the verge of escalating.

"Shut up Spike. She has to be here. Otherwise, it will all be for nothing," Angel barked, continuing his rapid pace despite Spike's pleas. Spike responded by releasing a sound that resembled an amused snort. "You honestly think that she'll come to you willingly? She's not stupid, you soddin' pounce. You've seen her fight. She's not like the others. She's a warrior for the Powers for blood's sake. You're quite daft if you believe she'll allow you to nibble her bits and be your queen." A short laugh escaped from William's lungs, shaking his head despondently as he took a swig of Budlight that burned harshly in his throat.

His own hands balling into fists, Angelus didn't have the ounce of willingness to admit that his grand childe was right. "So what you do suggest I'll do? Go to her home and ask her to escort me to the dance? We don't even know if she is the Slayer. It could be speculation only, Spikey." William rolled his eyes in response, then sighed in defeat. "My my, are we being stubborn, eh Peaches? Never could figure out why grand mum put up with ya. A pain in the arse and a thorn in my bloody side is all you are, me thinks."

"Didn't I say to shut up Mr. Peroxide Billy Idol wannabe? Here she comes. Now be a good little lapdog and hide yourself in that corner over there until I signal a direct order." Angelus gritted his teeth, patience wearing incredibly thin. With a single lack of breath on his part, Angelus placed himself hidden in the far left corner, anticipating the arrival of the alleged Slayer.

With a quick glance at both sides, she broke unto the padded lock that encased the door handle to Willy's Bar. Despite its' closed off appearance, she knew better than the bar being unoccupied. To her unsurprised knowledge, it was the direct opposite. She could hear the sounds of jeering and chortling mumbling from behind the heavily steeled crimson door that bore the insignia of the establishment. She was about to turn the intricate handle clockwise when she felt a hand brushing on her shoulder.

She spun quickly around, producing a stake from behind. "What are you doing here?" She snapped, until her eyes soften in remorse, her cheeks redden in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you like that." She looked down, not wanting to meet Angel's eyes.

Trying to control her heart rate, Buffy felt desire and fear settling in the pit of her stomach. He grinned, accepting her apology. "It's more than alright. Though I like to know why someone as beautiful as yourself is out here this late in the evening." Buffy scrambled to search for an answer. She felt the beating in her heart palpitating, her instinct indecisive as to whether or not to trust this stranger with revealing her true self. Don't even go there Buffy. Bad idea, she thought to herself sternly.

She decided for now on settling for the blunt, if not, evasive version of the truth. "Came here to meet a friend. Well, he's more annoying than a typical friend so to speak. He's a bartender here." She bore her intended lie into Angel's darkened eyes, willing him to take the bait. He searched her eyes before accepting the edited fib.

The scent of her blood pulsated, and for a moment, he prayed to whatever force there was in the universe that she wouldn't notice the fact that he had only fed a mere few minutes ago before she had made her presence known.

He concealed himself with a firm line pressed on his lips in a failed attempt to reveal a forced hint of a genuine smile. "Would you like me to accompany you? That is, if you don't mind?" He offered, his face half in shadow. A sudden breeze wafted in the air, bringing shivers and a sense of weakening resolve down the Slayer's spine. Before she could answer, a scuffling was heard in the corner of the alley that lead to the padded door of the liquor store, interrupting her thoughts.

"Wait here," Buffy ordered in an awkward fashion, uncertainty and alarm etched on her face. "I don't want you out there. What if there is trouble?" Angel offered with a startled, concern look. To the naked eye, the worried expression shown in his eyes was nothing if not a insincere performance, but suspicion was not cast on the Slayer. Her attention was focused on the area up ahead. Curiosity bubbled in his stomach at the intriguing human before him. It was obvious that she didn't fear him.

"I took martial arts classes for a couple of years. It's no biggie, really." Buffy whittled through her teeth, hoping that he wouldn't understand the newly formed fib that she was tossing at him in an effort to give him a distraction. She spun on her heels before he could reply when she felt his hand clenching at her arm. "I can't allow you to go. What if you get seriously injured? It is a man's duty to protect those that cannot protect themselves." Buffy sensed a trace of anger rising to the surface, battling against her growing desire to press her lips against his. She had to admit that his remark annoyed her, causing her to burrow her brows and scowl.

"A man's duty? Seriously, you have got to be kidding me. This is like, what, the twentieth century, not the 1950's. I don't need a man to be my bodyguard. I can do it myself Mr. Incognito. Unless you have a problem with that." At this, she cocked an eyebrow defiantly. Immediately, Angel released his hold on her, silence permeating the air.

"At least allow me to escort you," he offered, his undead heart beckoning for her to accept. Buffy opened her mouth to answer when she felt two rough hands shoving her from behind. She fell onto the shortened concrete, her jaw hitting itself against a pile of gravel. "What is this, kindergarten? Fight me like a real woman, why don't ya." She formed into a ball, rolling on one knee to block an oncoming kick that was directing itself against her face.

She blocked the steel toed foot, tucking her right hand to grab the beefy leg in order to flip the body over her. Success. Dabbling in a few lower punches behind the kneecaps and upper thigh area, Buffy didn't waste any time to stand on both feet, using her right leg to kick against the attacker's abdomen.

She gave a nod towards Angel before continuing, sensing his presence from behind. Trouble ensued. Without revealing herself as the Chosen One, Buffy was having difficult in deciding whether or not to dust the punk vampire into ashes.

In front of Angel. The risks were now weighing on her shoulders.