Stalk Her

Kneeling in his hiding place, deep in the trees, a man waits. He is soon rewarded when the object of his dreams comes into view. She’ was humming some mundane pop song, a stake in her hand, her arms swinging gracefully by her sides. Her tiny, yet powerful body was being lovingly caressed by a pair of denim shorts, and a purple halter top. Her long, blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. A slight smile touched her glossed lips as she walked, seemingly not having a care in the world.

She frowned, as if contemplating something, not sparing the fledgling that pushed out of the ground next to her a glance. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the stake flying. The fledgling burst into dust, and she bent to retrieve the wood, never breaking her reverie.

The man sighed, love reflecting in the crazed depths of his eyes. She was a goddess, pure and strong. Righteous and untouched. Like the goddess Athena, her strikes were straight and true. God had touched this beautiful creature before him, and he was blessed just to be allowed to gaze upon her.

His blood heated as he stared at her. She had come to a rest on the top of a headstone. Her head was titled back to look up into the sky. Perhaps she was wanting to rejoin her brethren in the Heavens. Surely, something so bright, and so beautiful was not long for this earth.

His hand traveled to the hardness in is pants, as he drank in the smooth lines of her back. He wondered, briefly, if she could feel him. If her pausing right in front of him was a sign. Maybe she was telling him, ‘Yes, I will be yours. You are the one that I will allow to be purged by my goodness.’ Joy swept through him at this thought. If only he could touch her, he was sure that he would be saved. The horrible things he had done would be forgiven, and then they could lay in each others’ arms and await the kingdom of heaven together.

He was touching himself in earnest now, shame creeping through his joy. He knew he was defiling the very thought of her by doing this, but he couldn’t stop. This was a testament to his own weakness, to the darkness that burned within his soul. The fact that he would want to do the foul and disgusting things that were floating through his mind, was a confirmation of his wickedness. She was goodness and light. He was evil and dark. And as his seed spilled across the foliage at his feet, he cried, apologizing to her back for his weakness.

As he tucked himself back into his pants, her heard her speak. His head whipped up to see who she was talking too, and realized that her head was turned in his direction. He shrunk back a little, afraid that she would see him, but quite sure she was seeking him out. He warred internally what to do, until he heard her call a name. A name that was not his. A name that belonged to a creature that shouldn’t even know her.

Rage flowed in his veins, when he realized that she was actually seeking that creature out. He watched as she whirled and shrieked, said creature standing behind her. His eyes burned into her back as she talked to it, its bleached hair shining in the moonlight. When the creature started to walk away, the man gave out a short lived sigh of relief. No sooner had the thing started away, when she called it back. He then watched as they talked for a quiet moment, then turned and proceeded on together.

He stepped out of the trees as they walked past, careful not to rouse their attention. His angry, mad eyes followed them until they disappeared from sight. He then turned and walked in the opposite direction, fury clouding his mind.

Chapter One

Buffy walked idly through the cemetery, humming. The tune had been stuck in her head all day, slowly driving her crazy. At least the mall piped in popular music, and not that crap that sounded like it had been played in a tin can by tone deaf mice. Of course, if Dawn ever caught her slaying vamps to the tune of “Bye, Bye, Bye”, she’d die of embarrassment.

In the light of that thought, it was probably good that the teen was gone for the summer. She stopped humming at that. Her eyes scanned the sea of headstones in front of her, searching for anything to slay. Anything to get her mind off her fifteen year old sister living it up at the beach with her friends.

At first, Buffy had given a resounding ‘NO’ when Dawn had first asked to go. It had been barely a month since they had defeated Glory, and she had not wanted to let Dawn out of her sight. The girl had alternated between stony silences, and tear filled begging to change her mind. But Buffy had stood strong, and Dawn had become increasingly frustrated.

Then, one night after patrol, Buffy had woken the girl up and told her she could go. Dawn had thrown herself into her sisters’ arms with an excited squeal. She never asked what had changed her sisters mind. And the Slayer would have never admitted it anyway.

The next day, Buffy had helped her pack, gave her some money and a calling card (a hint to call as much as possible) then, kissed her goodbye. As she had watched the car drive off into the day, her mind replayed what a certain peroxided pest had said to her.

“Just because you can’t have a normal life, doesn’t mean that Niblet can’t. She should have all the experiences that you couldn’t, luv.” Then, he had searched her face with his blue, blue eyes, lit a cigarette, and said goodnight.

She watched him until his blonde head had faded from view, the wheels spinning in her head, as she turned over what he had said. He was right. And as much as that thought galled her, she couldn’t deny it.

So, here she was. Strolling through the cemetery, humming boy band songs. All while her sister worked on her tan, and flirted with boys. Buffy couldn’t help the small pout that formed on her face.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her stake flying into the heart of the fledgling that had popped up to her right. Her steps hadn’t faltered as she continued her brooding. It wouldn’t be so bad, she supposed, as she bent to retrieve the stake. Not to bad at all to have the house to herself, if she hadn’t found herself TOTALLY alone for the summer.

Xander had gotten a construction job in L.A. for the summer. He and Anya had left that morning. Willow and Tara had gone on a Wiccan retreat. They were hoping the trip would help Tara through the trauma of being brain sucked by Glory. Giles had gone to England, having been called over by the Watcher’s Council. They wanted the report on defeating the Hell God in person.

Even Spike had been MIA since he’d seen her on patrol a week ago.

A scowl formed across her face. *I must be really desperate for company, if I’m wondering where the vampire is.* she told herself. But something about it seemed false. Almost automatic to deny any friendly feelings towards him.

Hopping up on the top of a headstone, she tilted her head back to study the star filled sky. Thinking about the blonde always elicited two opposite reactions with her. The first, stake him. Evil, undead, killer. That was from the Slayer side. The second, he was tortured for you, was a big help with Glory, and says he loves you. Not to mention he was a certified hottie. But, that was the girly side, the one that stubbornly refused to see Spike as JUST a monster.

“I know I’m monster. But you treat me like a man, and that’s. . .” For not the first time, Buffy found herself wondering what he had been about to say. Shaking her head, she pulled her confused thoughts away from the blonde vampire and took a deep breath of the cool night air.

It was at that moment that a tingling feeling started in the back of her neck, like she was being watched. A look between a grimace and a smile crossed her face. Turning her head, she peered into the dark trees behind her.

“Come out, Spike. I know you’re there.” She waited a beat, expecting to see the flare of a lighter as he lit a cigarette before joining her. When nothing happened, Buffy stood up and turned. Placing her hands on her hips, she cocked her head to the side. Irritation started to spread through her, and she scowled again. “Spike, this isn’t funny.”

“Pet?” An un-Slayer like squeak escaped her as she whirled around to face the man at her back.

“DON’T DO THAT!” she yelled, her right hand flying up to her speeding heart. Spike’s scarred eyebrow shot up at her shrill tone. He reached up and scratched said eyebrow with his thumb, a cigarette smoldering between his index and middle fingers. The paper bag he was holding in his right arm rustled with the movement.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, taking a drag. Rolling her eyes, she walked over to him, grateful for the distraction. The uncomfortable tingling had eased, only to be replaced by a different, but no less unnerving feeling when she stopped in front of him. Pushing it aside, she gave him a tiny smile.

“No, its okay. Just got a little case of the wiggins, I guess.” The scent of tobacco and leather drifted to her on the breeze, teasing her nose. She knew, if she moved just a little closer, she’d smell tat wild, earthy scent as well. She kept her feet firmly planted where they were.

“S’alright. Slow night?” he asked, waving his hand towards the general area.

“Yeah. I was just getting ready to head home.” she pointed her thumb in the direction of her house.

“Right, then. I won’t keep you.” He gave her a half salute, smoke waving in the air from the movement, then started towards his crypt. Before she had time to think about it, she called out to him.

“Hey, Spike?” he stopped, and turned to face her with a questioning expression on his face. It was then that a peculiar scent caught his attention. He sniffed the air, trying to place it. When he realized she was waiting for an answer, he shook it off.

“I’m sorry, luv. What did you say?” She gave him an exasperated look, but repeated herself.

“I asked if you wanna come with? I’ve got some hot cocoa with those little marshmallows you like.” She told the voice in her head that was shouting *What are you doing!?* to shut up. The thought of going back to her empty house, alone, wasn’t as appealing as it had been ten minutes ago. And Spike’s company was better than none.

He blinked once, in surprise, the blue depths clouding with wonder. In that instant, his face was stripped of its usual hardness, giving him the look of a little boy that had just been given an unexpected treat. It was the same look that Buffy had seen when she had invited him back into her house.

“You sure?” he asked, insecurity dripping from his voice.

“I wouldn’t have asked, if I wasn’t, Fang Face.” She teased, smiling. He returned the smile, and swaggered over to her. His smirk was once again, firmly in place.

“So,” he started, as he fell into step beside her. “Dawn get off alright?”

“Yeah. Xander and Anya are gone too. Some construction job in L. A.” she replied. The blond couple moved off into the night, their voices fading with each step they took. Their observer stepped out of the trees, his eyes burning into her back until she was completely out of sight.

Chapter Two

“GAH!” Buffy moaned when her alarm clock penetrated her sleep hazed brain. A hand shot out from under the blanket, silencing the offending object with a sharp slap. Raising her head and opening one eye, she moaned again. 8 a.m. Wonderful. She’d been asleep for exactly three hours, and now she was supposed to go to work?

“So not going today.” she mumbled, reaching blindly for the phone. After three attempts, her fingers finally closed around the receiver, pulling it to her.

She left a message when she got the machine of the small gift shop, trying to sound sick instead of tired. She then hung up and flopped her head back onto the pillow. Trying to get comfortable, she shifted, her mind replaying the night before.

Spike had stayed until almost dawn. *Stupid vampire.* she cursed, half heartedly. She knew it wasn’t his fault, really. He had made a token attempt to leave, a couple of times. But she had bribed him with another cup of cocoa. The unease she’d felt in the cemetery hadn’t let up, and she didn’t want to be alone.

He must have sensed it, because, he hadn’t become insistent about leaving until the sun was threatening to fill the sky. She had briefly considered telling him to stay, then abruptly slammed the door on that thought. A big NO to sexy, bleach blonde vampires spending the day on her couch. Way to tempting to even consider. So, she had said goodnight as he hefted his bag and took off at a run to avoid the sun. Then, she double checked all the locks and crawled up to bed.

With a sigh, she turned over and snuggled into the bed. Her hand brushed across something soft laying on the other pillow. Cracking her eye open again, she found herself staring at a blood red rose. Smiling a little, she reached out and plucked it up, bringing it to her nose. She breathed deep the sweet, rich scent.

She wondered when Spike had come back. It never occurred to her that it would have been impossible for him to do so. She just told herself to yell at him later, all the while relishing in the romanticness of it. Sighing again, she stretched to place the flower on her night stand. It lay there, it’s color vivid against the white paint, like a splash of blood on newly fallen snow.

She closed her eyes again, determined to go back to sleep. Her mind, however, had other ideas. Images of the blonde vampire kept sliding behind her closed eyelids, causing a now familiar flutter to start in her stomach. The way he cocked his head to the side, staring directly at you when you talked. The way his sapphire eyes burned into you when he did it. If he cared what you had to say, he’d listen to every word. Even when he didn’t care, he still heard it all. The way his body moved when he fought. He was graceful and quick, sleek and lean. Her mind even offered her a picture of what he might look like naked. Which brought up the memories of when Willows’ spell had them totally in love with each other.

“Ahhg.” she groaned, burying her head under her pillow. *Not a good idea to remember the way his mouth felt against yours, Buff. That leads to BAAADDD thoughts.* she told herself. But, no matter how she tried, her traitorous brain kept reminding her. And her even more traitorous body responded. Her skin heated up as she imagined his cool lips sliding against her hot flesh, his hands setting fire to her senses.

“This is not the way to get to sleep.” she mumbled, as her subconscious invented a new way to torture her. Now it was bringing to mind the contradictions of his personality. He had been one of the most vicious and evil master vampire’s she’d ever encountered. She’d never been able to kill him, only getting close that one time. But then, he could also be the one of the most devoted and gentle of mates. She’d never forget the look on his face when she’d held that stake to Druscilla’s heart. She’d also never forget the pang of jealousy that had thread its way through her heart.

She had known, even then, that hers and Angels’ relationship never held that amount of devotion. He had proven it by walking away from her after graduation. He hadn’t bothered to say goodbye, just stared at her for a long moment before disappearing into the night. It always seemed that all they could do was hurt each other, and they did it very well.

His departure had led her straight into Riley’s arms. Buffy groaned inwardly at that, not even wanting to go there.

Then there was Spike. No matter how many times she had told him to get lost, threatened him, or was just a total bitch to him, he stayed. He’d helped with Glory without hesitation. And no thanks from her, she thought guiltily. She remembered when Dawn had first told her he was in love with her. She had freaked. Absolutely, one hundred percent spazzed. Even had him uninvited from her house when he’d had an open invitation since before he had been chipped.

Granted, he hadn’t helped his cause when he’d chained her up. Then he’d offered her up to Dru if she didn’t tell him there might be a chance.

“I’m drownin’ in you, Summers. I’m drownin’ in you.” Even now, those words tugged at a part of her she didn’t want to admit was there. She had been able to see the vulnerability and torment swimming in the blue depths of his eyes. He didn’t want to love her. Knew it was wrong with every fiber of his undead heart. But, it didn’t stop it from being true. And, despite her objections to the contrary, she had known it was true. He loved her, and proved it by almost dying to protect Dawn.

That was the day that she had stopped seeing him as just another vampire. He had started to become and almost friend. An extended member of the Scooby gang. An ally. A rueful laugh bubbled out as she thought of the ridiculousness of her life.

She was the vampire Slayer, with a soulless, chipped vampire in love with her. Another giggle escaped as she stretched. Throwing her arms over her head, she scooted further into the comforting warmth of her bed. Forcing all thoughts away, she was finally able to go back to sleep.

*~*~*~

He was sitting in the dark, the only light coming from the computer screen in front of him. The Slayer’s sleeping features filled the monitor, the slightly grainy look doing nothing to detract from her beauty. A shaking hand reached towards the image to trace a finger over her slightly parted lips. She had found his gift, the memory of her smile fresh in his mind.

He had been angry with her at first, for allowing that thing into her home. But, after he had thought about it, he remember that her kindness was part of what he loved the most about her. Of course she wouldn’t hurt a creature that couldn’t defend himself. She had faltered once, with one of his kind, but surely she wouldn’t do so again. She was just showing compassion and thanks to something that had helped her through a hard time.

For so long, he had watched her, wanting her. Now, it was almost time to reveal himself. Then, maybe, when she was his, he could absorb the goodness that she carried with her, and cleanse his black soul. He just knew that she could save him, clear that darkness that was getting harder to control. It spoke to him, even now as he gazed upon her purity, telling him to do unspeakable things.

“NO!!” he screamed into the stale air. She would NOT be tainted by his sickness. He rubbed the silky material of his stolen prize over his face, feeling himself calm. It was almost as if her essence clung to the satin, its pureness seeping in through his skin. With perfect clarity, he knew that this would not last. As soon as he released his treasure, he would move out into the town and give in to the urges inside of him.

Almost as if he had resigned himself to it, he turned from the computer, rising to pad naked to his closet. Choosing his clothes carefully, he laid them out on his bed. With one last look at the screen, he walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Chapter Three

Later that evening, Buffy sat at the kitchen table, eating take out Chinese, and watching the small t.v. her mother had bought before she had died. The too cheerful voice of the brunette, female anchor was grating on Buffy’s nerves. As she stood to turn the channel, the story Ms. Chipper was reporting caught her attention.

“A grisly discovery was made this afternoon, at the 1200 block of Maple Avenue.” Buffy did a mental map check of the address. She frowned a little when she realized it was a suburb on the edge of town, not prone to vampire attacks. The demons usually stayed to the more heavily populated areas, as it was easier to find victims. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the t.v.

“The young woman was 21 year old college student, Sherylin Montgomery. She was found in her home, brutally murdered. Due to the nature of her injuries, the exact cause of death cannot be disclosed. Sunnydale police are urging anyone who had seen Ms. Montgomery over the last three days to please step forward for questioning.” A picture flashed across the screen to show a fresh faced, young woman. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her green eyes sparkled with life and mischief. Her full mouth was split into a wide smile to show even white teeth. Her skin was the standard California tan, with high cheek bones, and wide doe eyes.

A shiver coursed over Buffy’s spine as she studied the girl. In some part of her consciousness, she realized their resemblance to each other.

Shaking her head, she turned the t.v off . A knock sounded on the back door, and she turned to answer it, pretty sure she knew who it was. Sure enough, Spike was leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette.

“Hello, pet.” he said, flashing her a grin.

“Hey, Spike. What’s up?” He flicked the smoke away, then stepped inside. She moved away from the door to finish eating, leaving him to close the door.

“Wanted to see if you needed some help on patrol.” His eyes were dancing around the room, landing on her every couple of seconds, before sliding away. *He’s nervous* That struck her as amazingly amusing. Spike, the Big Bad, was as nervous as a boy on his first date. That particular analogy sobered immediately, when she realized that to him, that’s probably what this would be.

Buffy looked at up at him then, chewing thoughtfully. She waited for his eyes to finally settle on her, studying his face intently. She was seeing him completely stripped down, no cockiness, no swagger. No Spike. This was William, staring at her with barely concealed hope in his eyes. This was a side of himself he’d been showing her a lot lately.

Spike shifted under her scrutiny, feeling uncomfortable. The length of her silence stretched between them, causing his hackles to rise.

“Right, then. Guess the answers no. See ya around, luv.” He turned to leave, hoping to retain at least a shred of his dignity, when her quiet voice stopped him.

“Wait, Spike.” Hadn’t she said that last night? He paused, balancing on the balls of his feet, one hand curled around the door knob. He looked ready to flee, rather than be burned by her rejection. Again. She contemplated him a moment more, questioned swirling around in her head.

Could she handle another go with a vampire? Especially ‘this’ vampire. He was a barely contained ball of passion and energy, his emotions fueling him towards whatever he wanted. He was soulless. Technically evil (at least by the Watcher’s Councils standards). He had done atrocious things over the last century. Had his love for her really changed him? Or would he turn on them the second the chip malfunctioned or shorted out?

*Fuck it* she thought. It wasn’t like she was encouraging him, just trying to be friendly to someone who had helped save her sisters life. *Tell yourself another one, Buff.* Ignoring the voice in her head, she smiled brightly at him.

“Sure. The more the merrier.” Buffy then stood, closing the box containing her dinner. “Just let me get my jacket.” She put the box in the refrigerator, then turned to leave the room. She sprinted up the stairs, and bounded into her room, eyes immediately falling on the rose. With a soft smile, she walked over to her dresser and ran a finger over a soft petal. She had dug up one of her mother’s vases out of the linen closet, then put it there so she would be able to see it when she went to sleep, and when she woke up. She hadn’t allowed herself to analyze why she had done it. She wasn’t up to that much introspection. She just knew that it made her feel special, and good. And not in the Chosen one sort of way.

She had even decided not to mention it to Spike. If he wanted to play secret admirer, she’d let him. If he ever mentioned it, she would let him down easy, but she didn’t see any reason not to enjoy it until then.

With another smile, she grabbed her jacket off the bed and left to rejoin Spike.

“Ready?” she said when she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“And willing.” He purred, a suggestive leer on his face. Buffy just rolled her eyes, then grabbed her keys off the table.

“Come on, blood breath. Evil nasties await.” It was Spike’s turn to roll his eyes as he preceded her out into the warm night.

After making sure that the door was locked, she turned and joined him on the sidewalk.

“Pet. I don’t want to insult your fashion sense, but why are you wearing a jacket with shorts?”

“This coming from a guy who’s worn the same thing for thirty years?” Buffy replied, sliding her eyes over his usual attire of duster, black T-shirt, black jeans and boots.

“Hey, I’ll have you know this look is my calling card.” Spike huffed.

“Uh, huh. If there really was a fashion police, you would have been locked up long ago.” He scowled at her while she laughed, and pulled out a cigarette.

“I recall trying to change my look once. Don’t remember it being too well received, though.” That stopped her laughing, and they walked in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You were trying to be something you’re not.” Buffy told him quietly, becoming very interested in the chip in her nail polish.

“I was trying to be somebody you would like.” He admitted, clenching his jaw when he was finished.

“I know. But it wasn’t you. And, well. . .I do, kinda. . .like you.” she mumbled the last bit, and he reached out to pull her to a stop.

“What was that?” he asked, exhaling smoke. His face was set in an expressionless mask, waiting. Buffy continued to study her nails, refusing to meet his eyes when she started babbling.

“Well, you know, with all the help. . .and torture. . .Well, I guess. . .” Sighing, she raised her head and looked at him. “Look, I’m not saying that I’m giving you a chance. I’m not saying that this means anything other than what it is. But, it’s kinda hard to hate someone who almost died to protect your sister.” she finished in a rush. Spike’s blue, fathomless eyes studied her for a bit.

“Well, that’s something, then. Isn’t it, luv?” The intensity in his gaze burned into her, and she felt a slight crack start in the walls she had built around her heart.

“Yeah. I guess it is.” They stared at each other for a long moment, than turned to continue walking.

Spike dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his boot. He had turned to say something to Buffy, when his head swivelled back around, something in the air.

“What is it?” she asked, watching him take a deep, purposeful breath through his nose.

“Blood. A lot.” Then, without so much as a glance in her direction, he took off in a run. Buffy was right behind him. Luckily, he wasn’t going at full speed, or she never would have been able to keep up. He ran for about three blocks, past the cemetery where he lived. He then cut a sharp left at the corner. Buffy’s lungs were starting to burn, and her legs were threatening to give out as she pushed herself to keep up with him.

So intent was she on this, she didn’t see him skid to a stop. She plowed into his back, sending them both to the ground.

“Cor, Slayer. What’ve you been eating?” he exclaimed jumping to his feet. He reached down and pulled her up, not noticing the slap on his arm for his comment. He sniffed the air again, then took of once more.

“Shit.” Buffy huffed, taking off after him. When they finally went through the entrance to the park, her heart started to thud for something more than exertion.

*Please don’t let it be kids.* she prayed. She was prepared this time when he stopped. What she wasn’t prepared for, was him whipping around and gripping her arms. His hands encircled her biceps in a punishing hold. When she looked up in confusion, her eyes clashed with his yellow ones. She felt a quick stab of fear before her nose picked up the smell in the air. He was right. Blood. A lot. So much that it tainted the light breeze swirling around them.

“Spike. Let me go.” she said, trying to free herself. They were both panting heavy from the length of their run.

“You don’t want to see.” he told her, tightening his hands around her arms.

“I have to see what did this, so I can kill it.”

“You can’t kill what did this.” he insisted, still not moving. His demon was crawling around inside of him, demanding to partake of the buffet spread out so obligingly behind them. The man in Spike was revolted by what he had seen. No DEMON he knew of would have done what had been done to the poor girl at his back.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, finally breaking from his grasp. He reached for her again, but she evaded him easily. “It’s a little late to try to protect me from evil, Spike.” she told him pointedly. She glared at him before turning to look. A gasp escaped her as she sank bonelessly to her knees. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, holding back the scream that was threatening to erupt from her throat. Her hazel eyes were filled with horror and tears. Nausea rolled through her, as her mind struggled to accept what she was seeing.

The moon light and street lamps combined to make a spotlight on the girl laid out in front of them. Her naked form was posed in a reenactment of the crucifixion. Wooded stakes were driven through her hands and feet, a crown of garlic adorned her blonde head. Her mouth had been formed into the whisper of a smile. Her dead, green eyes stared sightlessly into the starry sky. Her throat had been cut, a jagged imitation of the smile she wore. He wrists had also been slashed, but all this was in addition to the incision that started in the valley between her small breasts. It traveled down the expanse of her upper body to the curls at the junction of her thighs. Particular attention had been given to her sex, which no longer resemble what it had been. Her heart had been removed, and was laid in one of her upturned palms. Every ounce of blood that had been in her slim form was now staining the ground around her.

Hard, ragged sobs tore from Buffy’s throat as she took it in. Then, Spike was in front of her, his black clad body blocking the scene that was forever burned into her memory.

“Pet.” he pulled her from the ground and forced her to walk to a bench facing away from the display. Pushing his cell phone into her lifeless hands, he mumbled “Call the police.” and walked back over to the girl. He stared into her face, his golden eyes picking up the similarities between her and the Slayer. The use of the stakes and the garlic crown struck him as an ominous symbol, as well. Shaking his head, he just chalked it up to coincidence. Raising his head in the air, he sniffed again. Picking past the coppery smell of the blood, and the regular night smells, his sensitive nose homed on another scent. It was faint, but he could tell it was the same from the night before.

It was human, he could tell that much. But there was something odd about it. Turning his head in the direction it seemed stronger, he breathed it in again. He scanned the bank of trees that surrounded the edge of the park. Stretching his senses out, he caught the faint sound of a heartbeat.

*Bastard’s still here.* his smile was predatory as he made ready to take off. He was stalled by Buffy’s tiny, shell shocked voice.

“Spike.” he turned to look at her. She was standing now, staring down at the girl. The cell phone was clutched tightly in her hand.

“Did you call the police, luv?” he kept his voice low, as not to startle her. She looked up at him then, nodding numbly.

“They’re on their way. You might wanna. . .” she waived a hand in front of her face, indicating his still vamped features. He turned his head, seeking the heartbeat once more. Finding it gone, he cursed inwardly. Turning back to Buffy, his face melted back into his handsome human planes once more.

“Pet, come sit down.” He gently gripped her wrist, giving her a light tug. She followed him wordlessly, allowing him to lead her. Sitting her back down on the bench, he settled next to her. A touch of worry furrowed his brow as he studied her pale profile. Her eyes were wide and glassy, staring unseeing at the ground. Her breathing was coming in short gasps and her heartbeat was erratic. Tentatively, Spike reached out to take her hand. He got the shock of his unlife when she practically crawled in his lap and buried her face against his shirt. He leather clad arms banded around her, holding her steady. Whispering softly into her hair, he cradled her against him, waiting for the police to come.