I did indeed end up going to the Bronze that evening. Not because I wanted to, but because both Willow and Buffy insisted I needed to come to help Buffy with her French. I admit I wasn't as enthusiastic about the situation as I could have been.

I was a bit hungry, you see. It had been quite a while since I'd had a blood-pack and the Essence constantly growling and drawing my attention to every single throbbing heart in the room while the owners of said hearts wobbled about the room, well, it really wasn't helping my mood. As evidenced by the fact that I'd grumpily put my hood up and refused to take it down again. The fabric somewhat lessened the blaring of the music, but earmuffs would have been better.

Poor Buffy was trying her hardest with French verbs, but it was clear that with even Willow and myself aiding her, she was going to be lucky to get a 'C' in the class.

Not to mention speaking all this French was bringing back memories of my early days in France. It had been hard not to drift there during the French Revolution. It was as though the spilled blood called out to every vampire, there were hundreds if not thousands of them there.

War is like that, as well. Wherever there is war and bloodshed, you'll find vampires somewhere.

Or half-vampires. Though I never met one.

The music and the hearts and the shouting and laughter was fraying my nerves considerably.

"You'll have to excuse me," I said, rubbing my forehead, "I'm going to find some corner where the music isn't driving a nail through my skull. I'll be right back."

"Sure thing." Willow said, smiling sympathetically while Buffy stumbled her way through a string of French verb endings.

It took me a good five minutes to even make it to the toilets, the crowd was so dense (in more ways than one). When I finally saw the open doorway for the hall to the bathrooms, I started shoving people rudely out of my way to race to it.

Alas, right as I was about reach it, someone stepped out of the crowd and put his arm across the threshold, blocking the way. I stopped short and looked in annoyance at the little boy (all right, he was a teenager but he looked like he was still a child) who had blocked my path.

"Hey, babe." He crooned. I nearly laughed. Good heavens, the boy was barely out of puberty! His voice still sounded as though it wanted to crack, for heaven's sake.

Oh, by all that's holy, I'm getting too old for this sort of thing.

"Excuse me." I said politely, trying to push past his arm, but he kept it in place. I could have easily pushed through, but that would have required breaking his arm, and I didn't need that tonight. I sighed and turned back to him and tilted my head.

"Do you need something?" I asked.

He grinned in what I suppose was meant to be a charming manner, but the pimples sort of took away from the effect.

"Just you, baby."

For all his bravado, he was nervous. I could hear his heart fluttering nervously. If he wasn't being so annoying, I would have felt sorry for him.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead.

Tasty little morsel

'Little being the key-word here.'

Just a little taste? It would be taken as a sign of affection, after all. Just a quick nip?

'You know it never ends with just a 'little taste'. Remember Adrienne?'

The Essence purred at the memory.

She enjoyed the biting. She thought it was exciting.

'She enjoyed it right until she didn't.' I reminded it. 'We're not risking it again.'

"Listen," I said to the boy, "I really just want to urinate right now, would you mind getting out of the way?"

He blushed a little and put his arm down.

"Sorry," he said, "is it okay if I wait for you?"

I met his eyes, so hopeful, so excited and nervous.

"I'm not the one you're looking for," I told him, patting his shoulder maternally, "you just think I am. You've nothing to prove to your peers or yourself, or me. Just go enjoy the music, don't think you have to woo a woman in order to be a man. You'll be a man soon enough, don't rush it."

He blinked at me, bewildered, embarrassed, but he proved to be smarter than I'd given him credit for.

"I-I'm sorry." He said, flushing, his blood so close to the surface of his skin. I felt overwhelmingly thirsty all of a sudden, and there was a refreshing drink literally under my fingertips.

"Don't be." I murmured, and found myself leaning closer to him without meaning to. My lips brushed his cheek, and I nearly trembled at the scent of fresh, young blood so close, so easy to get, so stupidly easy to just take what I want, and he would enjoy it while I did.

Just a nip…

I took a breath and pulled away. It felt like trying to pry apart magnets that are stuck to each other. I didn't want to let go of him, even though I did. His heart was beating in rapid time now in response to the kiss. His hands reached up to find my hands, my face, anything he could grab hold of.

I stopped them and lowered them to his sides. If I wasn't careful I would end up enthralling him without meaning to. It's terribly easy to do with adolescents. They want to be excited, to be loved, to be thrilled and desired. It's easy to gain sway over them, and so hard not to take advantage of it.

"Go dance." I told him, pulling him away from the door and giving him a little shove in the direction of the dance-floor. He started to step towards me again, smiling shyly, wanting more.

"No." I said firmly, like you would tell a disobedient puppy. He stopped, his smile faltering. He looked disappointed, but he knew when to call it quits. He nodded, turned, and went back to the dance-floor, and I went into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and try not to think of how delicious that child had smelled.

I hadn't thought I'd been gone terribly long, but apparently I'd been away longer than I'd imagined since I couldn't find the Slayer, Willow, or Xander. I looked around in confusion. Buffy's French workbook and her purse were still at the table, but the owner and her friends were nowhere to be found.

As I was about to go to the bar to ask if anyone had seen my friends, I caught a whiff of Xander and turned to see him rush in and bolt to the table so he could start rummaging through Buffy's bag.

I flipped my hood up again and quickly joined him.

"What's happened?" I asked, noticing his quickened breathing and heartbeat, not to mention his hands were trembling with excitement so bad he kept dropping Buffy's purse as he tried to look through it.

"Vamp outside," he answered, "Buffy needs a stake."

I reached down, lifted the leg of my jeans up and slid out the stake I'd strapped there.

"Show me." I told him, letting him catch a glimpse of the stake. He nodded, grabbed my arm, and we hurried out of the Bronze and into the side-alley, where I could hear Buffy battling the said vampire.

When Buffy and the vampire came into view, she had just regained her feet after being knocked down, and the vampire looked decidedly perturbed by this change of events.

"Spike, give me a hand!" he shouted to the shadows, evidently calling a companion.

I pulled free of Xander and bolted to Buffy's side, slamming a fist into the vampire's face when he lunged at her, and simultaneously shoving the stake into Buffy's hand so she could finish the job.

The vampire snarled, trying to come at us both. Buffy smacked him across the face hard enough to make him stumble in my direction, so I followed up by spinning to the side and giving a sharp blow to the back of his head that made him double over. Buffy stepped in while I stepped back, and she shoved the stake deep in his heart.

As the dust of his remains fell to the ground, a slow clapping sound came from the shadows.

Both Buffy and I turned, ready to fight again, but the figure emerging didn't seem interested in fighting.

My gaze traveled up his person. Long black leather coat, black pants, black t-shirt, red over-shirt…but what made me freeze in horror was his face. It wasn't that it was hideous, in fact it was quite the opposite. It was handsome, but it was horrible. Horrible because it was copying the face of one the best friends I'd ever had.

The hair was different, it was bleached blond and there was a scar on his left eyebrow that hadn't been there before, but it was my friend's face.

Worse, the demon was even copying his voice.

"Nice work, loves." He said, smiling easily at Buffy and me.

'It can't be.' I thought wildly, hoping against hope, a part of my brain screaming in pain and protest, refusing to acknowledge what I already knew to be true.

'It's not him, it's not.'

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at me, not in recognition, but out of curiosity. He sniffed in my direction, lips curling up in amusement. He didn't recognize me?

Of course, my hood was up. And if it was my friend, he hadn't known me for what I was. Unless this wasn't my friend. It couldn't be, it couldn't. This wasn't my boy.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked.

He looked back at her, blinking slowly, like a cat.

"You'll find out on Saturday." He said.

No, it was his voice. It had to be him. God help me or strike me down, it was him.

I reached up and pulled my hood off slowly, still stunned and crushed by the pain in my chest.

"William?" I said, my voice broken and choked sounding.

Spike, the vampire had called him. He whipped his head around to look at me, surprised. His eyes widened as he looked at my unobscured face, recognition dawning on his face as his lips parted in shock.

That recognition was even more painful than it would have been if he'd acted confused.

"Maggie?" He said. The name sent a knife through my chest and I shuddered, taking a shaky intake of breath. His pet name for me, Maggie.

"William," I breathed, taking a step towards him, still not quite believing all of this was really happening. "William, what are you doing?"

William was still staring in shock, but he came towards me too.

I sniffed at the air, hoping that I was wrong. I wasn't. He was a vampire.

"I might ask you the same thing," he answered, not angrily, but with a smirk and a tilt of his head, looking me over yet again.

"You-" he began, speaking quietly, "you didn't tell me about…this." He gestured at me. No, I hadn't.

"You kept some secrets from me, eh?" he chuckled, moving closer.

"What happened to you?" I whispered.

"Hate to interrupt," Buffy said, breaking into our thoughts, William's eyes flashed and he turned away from me to glare at the Slayer, "but what the hell happens Saturday, William?" She let sarcasm drip off the name.

'No, no don't say it like that.' I thought, another pang running through me, 'Don't make it hated, don't.'

Spike's lip curled up in disdain.

"My name is Spike, love." He snapped back. "And Saturday is when I kill you." He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly that it took a moment to even register as a threat. He smiled easily at Buffy again, slipping back into his cat-like persona.

He glanced at me, and winked.

"Nice catching up, Maggie." He said, "We should do it again sometime."

He started to saunter away, black coat tapping gently at his heels.

"William, wait!" I said, coming to myself again. He didn't even look back, just raised a hand in a slight salute of farewell, and then was swallowed by the darkness.

I'm used to feeling cold. After all, I don't have any circulation or anything, so cold doesn't bother me.

But watching William-who-wasn't-William leave, it felt like I'd just had a chunk of ice shoved into my stomach. It hurt, it ached, and it was so terribly, terribly cold.