"Put. Me. Down!" Buffy snarled.

Spike could feel himself smirk, but didn't know how he'd pulled it off. Because right now, right in front of him, he was holding a Slayer who was one hundred percent, All-American, Grade-A vampire. He had a tiger by the tail, and he wasn't letting go for anything. Buffy hissed and spat at him, her hands clamped tight on his wrist where he held her as she writhed and jerked, trying to escape. Spike held on tight, sure if he let go of his slim advantage he would have the fight of his life on his hands.

"What have we got here then?" he mused aloud. "Slayer. Did you know? Some beastie got a bite of you."

"Wrong again Spike," she choked. "Drop me, see for yourself."

Spike sneered, but suddenly Drusilla was at his side, her hand feather-light on his sleeve.

"Spike," she pouted, her eyes gleaming in the dark as she stared with a deadly intent at the girl in his arms. "Don't hurt the sunshine. If you do we'll all be late to the party."

"This who you've been waiting for then pet?" he asked, careful not to ease his grip despite the fact that Buffy had gone still under his hand.

"Brought her invitation," Dru smiled knowingly. "You're late you know," she told Buffy.

"Sorry," the Slayer grated, her tone betraying the sentiment.

Knowing he couldn't hold her forever, Spike put out his free arm, drawing Drusilla behind him as he quickly backed them away, pushing Buffy against the wall in the same movement, putting as much space between them as quickly as he could. She caught her footing easily, one hand going to her neck as she rubbed the chafed skin, and Spike could see that beneath the light bruising already started there, it was free of any mark.

In an instant the atmosphere in the small room tightened, the air heavy as each dropped into a fighting stance, Drusilla backing slightly away with a childish smile as the two fighters focused completely on each other, each sense, every finely honed instinct poised to slash at a second's hesitation. As they slowly began to circle each other, round and round the dusty floor, Spike reached out in every way he knew how, calculating, preparing for any move. He could hear no heartbeat, no rush of blood, and the very scent of her was sweet, feminine death. Beneath the cruel twist of her mouth, the anger in her eyes, he could still see pain, hot and new and crushing, but he sensed no real soul inside. No, there was a demon in the dock now, and she was flush with it – a fledgling's strength and adrenaline and thirst. And yet her control was exquisite, that of a vampire four times her age.

"What the bleedin' hell are you?" he murmured.

Of course she heard him. Cocking her head, she flashed him sharp, white teeth and golden eyes. "Everything I don't want to be," she hissed. "Everything I never should have been."

Buffy could feel real fear pumping through her like acid in her veins. Spike had had her, pinned against that wall. He could have snapped her neck, could have staked her, could have done any number of terrible things and yet he'd let her go. Now they circled, each looking to leap and each holding back, she was still afraid. She had beaten Spike so far mostly on luck and numbers, and she wasn't sure that she could win a real fight against him on a good day. In the back of her mind, the memory of bringing Angel to his knees tried to creep in and boost her confidence, but she was shaky in this new body, unsure of this form, and when you didn't know your weapon, you couldn't rely on it.

So she would bluff.

With great effort, she let her body relax, standing up from her ready position and letting her fangs recede. She was still tensed, her chest tight with the thought that this was a horrible mistake and that Spike would tear her apart at any moment, but she forced herself to remain calm, slinging her duffel off her back and onto the floor at her side. Spike watched her through narrowed eyes, almost vibrating with reined in energy, but after a terrible, unending standoff, he too slowly relaxed. The dark haired vampire who had called her late clapped her hands and moved to stand at Spike's side, smiling at Buffy sweetly.

"There," she hummed. "Now we can all be friends."

Buffy frowned. "Spike and me aren't friends," she corrected harshly, though the flash of pained sadness that shot across the ethereally beautiful woman's face caused guilt to flare inside her. "And I don't even know you."

The brunette just grinned and shook Spike's arm roughly, like a child might shake their father's, and it made Buffy smirk because it clearly caused the blonde vampire some degree of irritation.

"Right," he snarled. "This here's Drusilla. She's been expecting you Slayer, so you'll mind your manners or…"

"Do you like daisies?" Drusilla asked suddenly, interrupting Spike just before his threat got good.

Buffy's hand shifted to the small of her back, where she had tucked a small stake into her waistband on a whim just before she'd left her house. This vampire seemed honest enough, but only because she was clearly a few cards short of a deck.

"I guess," she replied, her gaze shifting nervously between Spike and what she figured must be his girlfriend. She knew he'd had someone with him, knew that this was probably the Drusilla, his sire, that Giles had briefly mentioned so long ago, but she was a bit too caught up in the present to go gallivanting around in the past trying to remember all the things that her Watcher had said and that in the end didn't matter at all. It was just strange. This was not what she had pegged as Spike's type.

"I plant them," the flighty female continued with a sadness about her mouth, "But they always die. Everything that I put in the ground withers and dies. I should have liked some for the table…"

"For the party…" Buffy said cautiously.

"That's right," she smiled. "We've been waiting."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow.

"Dru here gets visions," Spike explained reluctantly, his arm going around the vampiress protectively. "Sees things. Hears things. Knew you were coming. Knew you'd be… different."

A hysterical sort of chuckle bubbled up out of Buffy's chest before she could bite it back. "Different," she said raggedly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What the hell happened to you Slayer?" Spike asked suddenly, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I mean, I saw what the spell did but…"

"The spell is over!" Buffy snarled, fury abruptly blinding her. Spike pushed Dru behind him and leaned forward on the balls of his feet as Buffy stalked a few paces towards them. "Broken! Everyone back to their old selves, but not me! No. No me, I burn!" Her voice dropped low as pain flooded through her. "I can feel it," she whispered. "In my throat. Scratching. Clawing. Fighting to get out."

"How lovely," Dru said sweetly.

Buffy raised her head and looked the other woman in the eye. "I think it is," she choked.

"So uh, you're a real vamp then?" Spike asked, looking between the two anxiously. "Forever."

"Yeah," she answered. "Forever."

"And uh, how'd that come over?"

Buffy glared at him from beneath her eyelashes, silently communicating her desire not to discuss it, and to her great surprise, he didn't press. For a time it was still and silent, and then Dru moved forward, easily evading Spike's grasp and breaking the standoff as she calmly crossed the empty space between the, stopping mere feet away with her hands clasped chastely in front of her while Buffy's twisted around her stake. Spike followed close behind, clearly concerned for her safety as he came to a stop directly behind her, but she ignored him, her large dark eyes fixed on Buffy.

"Who's that you've brought with you?" she asked politely, her voice light and curious as her gaze flicked down to Buffy's duffel bag.

"What's she talking about?" Buffy asked Spike, confused and only a tiny bit nervous around this strange female. She was weird, really weird, but she didn't seem too dangerous. Weak, even.

"Slayer's alone luv," he said quietly in Dru's ear, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "Didn't bring anyone. Just us three yeah?"

Buffy caught the question in his voice. He was nervous. What, did he think she was faking him out? Ambushing them? That was something he would do, not her.

"Oh, but she did," Drusilla insisted, a soft smile tilting at her lips. "Such lovely soft fur he has. Miss Edith will like him very much."

Buffy frowned. Surely she didn't mean… But she probably did. She was obviously nuts. Hesitant to reveal such a thing to Spike of all creatures, she nevertheless dropped into a crouch and tugged open the zipper on her bag anyway, keeping a careful eye on the other two vampires as she rummaged around, digging through her clothes until Mr. Gordo surfaced. Drusilla clapped her hands like a child, and Spike cocked an eyebrow at her but Buffy just sneered, daring him to poke fun at the stuffed pig.

"He is lovely," Drusilla said to Buffy, as though she were complimenting Buffy herself. "There's a place at the table for each of us," she smiled. "Not Spike. He doesn't care for tea, and breaks the cups." She said this in such an accusatory tone, shot the bleached vampire such a critical look that Buffy laughed despite herself, making him frown. She had the distinct feeling that the he had only just looked up and found himself outnumbered.

"The tea is all set," Drusilla said dreamily. "And it's time for the sunshine and the shadow to have their party." Smiling, she extended her hand, offering it to Buffy with the gravity of one offering much more than an empty palm. "Won't you join us?"

Buffy could feel her heart in her throat. She didn't know what she was accepting here, but it felt like taking candy from strangers; cold and sharp and sour, like lemons. Swallowing hard, she placed a trembling hand in Dru's.