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Chapter 10:

Spike had his arms crossed and had to dig his fingers into his arms to keep from growling at the guy who was piercing the Slayer's ears.

The Kid, as Spike thought of him, was a rather nice looking man with floppy brown hair, a goatee, several tattoos on his arms, and wore a Metallica t-shirt and ripped jeans. He was also practically drooling down the Slayer's front.

Spike couldn't believe the nerve of The Kid who seemed not to care that he was hitting on the girl in front of her older brother, as Spike had claimed he was. In fact, The Kid had even made a big deal about how he shouldn't be piercing her ears without proof that she was eighteen, but he'd make an exception since she had her brother with her to vouch for her.

Spike knew better, he knew The Kid was just hoping to get her away from him so that he could take advantage of her. The Kid even had the nerve to suggest that Buffy should think of getting something other than her ears pierced. Spike quickly put an end to that, conveniently forgetting that he'd made a similar suggestion before they'd arrived.

"There, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" The Kid said.

Spike wanted to hit him. Hadn't he noticed that his Slayer had never once flinched when the gun shot the metal through her ears? Three piercing in her right ear, and one in the left, and never once did she so much as blink. But The Kid couldn't see that she wasn't some girl, she was a warrior. Only Spike knew that.

The Kid had finished giving her instructions on how to care for her ears, and they moved to the counter to ring up the purchases. As The Kid continued to try and flirt with her, Spike pulled out his pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and purposely set the pack down on the counter.

He put the cigarette in his mouth when The Kid noticed him. "I'm sorry, man. There's no smoking."

The Slayer tensed, but Spike only smiled, put the cigarette behind his ear and shrugged. She relaxed, then her eyes noticed a calendar sitting on the counter.

"Is it really February?" she asked.

"Yeah. February 19th," The Kid replied.

"That mean something, kitten?" Spike asked.

"My birthday was a month ago," she told him. "I guess I really am eighteen."

"Well, Happy Birthday, kitten." Spike smiled sadly at her, knowing where it was she must have spent her last birthday.

"Isn't she your sister, man?" The Kid asked.

Spike ignored him. "How about a tattoo for your birthday?" he suggested.

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Please. Have you seen these things?" She turned to gesture at the walls which were covered in potential tattoos for people to chose from. "I mean they're all naked women, and snakes, and skulls. Or naked women sitting on a skull holding a snake."

"There's lots of roses and hearts," he pointed out.

"They're red," she stated firmly.

He sighed. She really was a stubborn thing.

The Kid walked over to her with a book, "We have a bunch of goth tattoos," he suggested.

But she wasn't paying attention to him, something had caught her eye.

"What is it, pet?" Spike asked. "See something you like?"

"It's not. . ." she moved closer to the wall. "It's just, I had a dress like that, when I was a little girl."

Spike looked where she was pointing. It was a small tattoo. A little blond fairy dressed in a pink ballerina's outfit. The fairy had a little wand with a star at the end, and delicate wings.

"My dad. He used to call me his fairy princess."

"Do you want it?" Spike asked her.

"No. . ." she said without any conviction.

Spike moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders as he whispered in her ear, "I bet you dad would be glad to know you remember. Bet he'd like for you to have something to remind you of him."

"I don't know. . ."

"A lot of women," The Kid broke in, "get that sort of tattoo right above their breast. It w-"

"NO!" Spike said firmly. There was no way he was letting anyone anywhere near her breasts. "It would look nice on your shoulder. You could cover it up then, if you ever want to."

"You think?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Okay," she agreed nervously.

The Kid quickly led her to a booth and prepared the needles. He tried to keep Spike out, but Buffy said that it was alright if he was there.

It wasn't that Spike was that interested in the procedure, it was that he didn't trust The Kid. Spike was sure that he was up to no good, and intended to molest her the moment he had her alone. So he stood guard over the Slayer as she got her tattoo.

When it was done The Kid put a bandage over it, and gave her instructions on how to take care of it. Spike paid and hurried her out of the parlor.

"So what do you want to do for your birthday, kitten?" he asked her once they left.

"It's not really my birthday."

"I know, but I'm guessing you didn't get cake. Do you want cake? What kind do you like?"

"I've never had cake."

"Right, I forgot. You know, I'm starting to wonder if there was any point in my rescuing you? We're going to find you cake. Maybe go out to a club or something."

Spike patted down his pockets, pretending to look for the cigarettes he had left in the tattoo parlor.

"Damn," he said. "Left my smokes back at the shop. Wait here, I'll be right back."

"It's okay, I can come with you," Buffy told him.

"Nah, it'll just take a minute, be right back. Think about what sort of cake you want."

With that he headed back down the street toward the tattoo parlor. As soon as he turned the corner and was out of the Slayer's sight he took off at full speed. He didn't want this to take too long.

He reentered the shop, a little bell ringing above the door as he did so.

"Can I help. .? Oh it's you again. Something wrong?" The Kid asked.

"Forgot my smokes." He picked up the package and lit a cigarette.

"Hey, I told you man, no smoking in here."

"Sorry about that," Spike said.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, walked over to the The Kid, and put the cigarette out in his eye. The Kid fell to the ground screaming in pain.

"That's for looking at my girl," Spike said as he hauled him up by the back of his shirt and threw him across the counter. Then his fangs tore painfully into The Kids throat, ripping it open. Blood poured from the wound down his throat.

It was a quicker death than Spike would have liked to have given him, but he didn't have time for niceties like torture.

He dragged the body into the back, and washed the blood from his face. Then he turned out the lights in the shop, turned the sign around from open to closed, and left.

He ran back till he was almost to the street where he'd left the Slayer, then he pulled out the cigarette that had been behind his ear the whole time, lit it, and strolled casually down the street.

The Slayer was nowhere to be seen, but a few feet from where he'd left her, a cop car was parked.





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