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*Two weeks later, LA*

One more kick to the ribs, a sweep of the legs, and it was time for the stake to the heart.
“That was pretty good, Slayer. But you’re still dropping your right shoulder before you punch.” He pointed at the new pile of dust with the hand holding his cigarette. “Next time might not be against some poor sod turned in a hurry by a mindless minion. You’ll come up against one of the Master’s favorite pets, and annoying and ritual-minded as they are, they still pack enough brains and experience to turn that tell of yours into their own personal ‘one good day.’ Remember that.”
Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. It was a combination Spike was getting very closely acquainted with. “As if. And even if we do move to Sunnydale after the divorce finalizes, you said it yourself: I took them on and won the last time. And I so do not drop my shoulder. And even if I did, what are you, the posture Nazi? I thought vampires were all for the mayhem and ‘to hell with all the rules’ anyway.”
Spike couldn’t help thinking that old Rupert was a saint for having survived this version of Buffy. Even the older version of her had provided some epic moments of frustration for the watcher, but nothing could compare to this constant stream of denials, sarcasm, and annoying remarks. “It’s not about rules, or about what happened in a different timeline. This is about you now. Just because I’m here and you were there in the future doesn’t mean this couldn’t be an alternate universe where you die earlier. Or stay dead when the Master kills you. Or simply piss me off enough to end you myself.”
That last bit made her deign to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “You won’t.” More eye-rolls. “And I guess I could do something else with my shoulders. But only because I want to.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He’d take small victories wherever he could get them. “Wouldn’t dream of anything different.” He really needed to get Giles to take over as her watcher. Not that he knew exactly how he got wrangled into the role, but somewhere between having a cuppa with Joyce, talking with Dawn about her history lesson, and trying to teach Buffy some of his signature moves, he’d found himself being just that. Not that he really minded.
They started to walk down one of the many back alleys in the bad part of LA. Well, one of the bad parts which just happened to suffer from an undead infestation. They’d already dusted five fledges and it wasn’t even getting late yet.
Spike wanted to patrol some more, work with Buffy on her attack moves, but instead he stopped walking and took stock. He was doing it all wrong. Just because he was filling in for Rupert didn’t mean he had to also act like him. With all the training and talk about future threats he’d forgotten to cater to Buffy’s teenager side. She hadn’t spent all that time in the Bronze for nothing back in Sunnyhell. She needed entertainment and friends. Since Red and the Whelp were all the way in the other town, she needed to spend some hours with whatever friends she must have had before her move. It was the time to get the Slayer to have fun.
“So pet, I seem to remember Joyce mentioning a party tonight. I can take care of any stragglers around here if you want to go indulge in some teenage fun.”
He saw her shoulders tense. “Nah, that’s fine, we can hang around here a bit more then go home.”
He got in front of her and grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong, Buffy?”
She gave him a look filled with Buffy grade stubbornness. He expected her to deny anything was wrong, storm off, and bottle it up. Instead she huffed and started to kick invisible pebbles. “I don’t wanna go.”
He narrowed his eyes. “They didn’t invite you?”
She turned around and started to stomp down the street. “No, they didn’t. And if I was still me from a few months ago, I wouldn’t invite me either.”
“Why the hell not?”
She flung her hands in the air. “Because it’s the birthday party for my varsity quarterback ex-boyfriend, Jeffrey, who’s dating my used to be best friend and co-head cheerleader, Jennifer. And if that wasn’t sucky on the scale of suck enough, the party’s full of people I used to hang out with and who haven’t called me, or answered any one of my calls since the night I killed Lothos.” She huffed and Spike could all but hear tears in her voice. “I’m just the freak who burned down the school and is running around with pointy sticks.”
He had heard enough. “Stop being daft. You’re not just some silly little girl going through a phase. You’re the Slayer. Didn’t you save all their asses when you killed Lothos? I know people are in deep denial about anything supernatural, but they must have seen you rescue at least some of them.”
She chuckled. “A vampire was about to eat Jen and Jeff while they were having sex, but I saved them.” She sighed. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m not popular anymore, what with the fire, getting expelled, and now the divorce.”
“That’s not your fault.”
She snorted in response.
“Listen to me. The fact that your dad can’t understand what he’s giving up for a bit of slap and tickle is not on you. It’s his brain that’s working all wrong. I have half a mind to rip the bastard in two for putting you through this, but he’s not worth it.”
Her face closed down into a hard mask. “You don’t know anything.”
He raised his scarred eyebrow. “I know enough. First time around he completely disappeared from your life by the time I rolled into town. At your lowest and neediest he still couldn’t be bothered.” He cupped her cheek. “You, your mother, and Nibblet can do so much better than him.”
“You can’t choose family, Spike.”
“You’re right. But that doesn’t mean you can’t chose who you have next to you.”
She gave him a strange look out of the corner of her eye. “Whatever. Let’s see if anymore undead decide to show up for this party and leave my former friends to theirs.” The way she said it would have fooled a lesser vamp, but Spike wasn’t on his first merry-go ride.
He touched her arm and guided her down another street. He kept changing the direction on her for another few turns until he reached his intended destination.
“What are you doing?”
He looked at her and shrugged. “I screwed up. Stick around me long enough and you’ll realize it’s something of a specialty of mine.” He raked the fingers from his left hand through his hair. “I was turning into your bloody Watcher, and that’s not what you need right now.” He pointed at the door of the run-down warehouse in front of them. “This is where you should be. Just one rule – no slaying in there. Well, unless someone attacks you, but I don’t think anyone will be stupid enough to do that.”
She was looking at the place as if it were a smudge on her brand new shoes. “And what is this place?” She frowned and took a step back. “It better not be some weird demon sex dungeon or something.”
He couldn’t figure out if he should laugh or get upset at her words. The idea brought back some good memories, some not so good, and none that really fit with the young girl next to him. He settled on a grunt. “Behind that door is your first taste of what real demons are like. Not the piss-poor excuses for vampires we’ve met until now, not that poncy bugger you offed, and not anything that dead watcher of yours might have told you about.” She scrunched her nose at him so he decided to explain some more. “It’s a demon bar, pet. Not very high end, but not the worst there is, either. It’s about damn time you had some fun on the job.”
“It doesn’t look like fun.”
“It’s not always what’s on the outside that counts, pet. Not everyone is cursed with my good looks, but some people still manage to be all right on the inside.”
She smiled briefly before schooling her features in her patented look of disdain. “Well from what I’ve seen so far demons are gross.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” He groaned. “Could you please just bloody trust me on this? We go in for one drink. We leave whenever you decide. But not later than twelve or your mum will have my hide, deal?”
“Okay, sheesh.” She went to the door and tried to get in. A peephole opened in the heavy door and a gravelly voice right out of cliché Hollywood movies asked for the password. She gave Spike an incredulous look and tapped her foot as he gave the code-word to the bouncer. Whoever thought putting old horror movie titles as passwords was a good idea needed a flogging.
They made their way in and he could practically feel her go into Slayer mode. If any demons worth their salt were in there tonight Spike bet they felt it too. He gave the room a quick scan to map any possible threats. A couple of vamps looked itchy in a booth, a Novak sneered and started heading for the back door, and a couple others gave him the stink eye. Nothing they couldn’t handle, but it always paid to get the lay of the land.
He put an arm around her and guided her to the bar. They occupied a couple of stools next to some peaceful demons about ready to piss their pants and ordered some drinks.
“ID?”
Spike snorted. “Chit’s the Slayer and you ask for an ID? I thought this was a reputable demon establishment.” That earned him some snickers from the other patrons within earshot. Even Buffy cracked a smile.
“One beer. Non-negotiable.”
“One rum and coke, you can add an extra ice-cube if your conscience is bothering you.”
Spike locked eyes with the bartender. There was a greenish tint to the man’s corneas, sort of like a cat. Probably some type of half-breed. In the end they both nodded, an agreement reached. Soon the drinks had been served and the bartender was keeping himself busy wiping down the counter and flexing his muscles ever so slightly to emphasize the ‘no violence’ policy written above the booze shelves.
“Tell me a story.” Her voice was perky and her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit. Maybe it was the effect of the missing half of her drink on an empty stomach and without any previous experience. Spike thought she needed to eat more.
“A bit old for ‘three little pigs,’ aren’t you?” He smirked and took a long sip of his whiskey.
She swatted at his shoulder. “You know what I mean. You gave us the short version of your history when we met. Now I want the dirt.”
The request brought him up short. He’d expected she’d ask, sure, but that didn’t mean he had any idea what to tell her. Where to start? What to leave out? What to put emphasis on? He settled for the tried and true and slouched a bit in his seat, playing casually with the rim of the glass in front of him. “So you wanna know about the Big Bad?”
Her eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “The what now?”
“’S what I was for most of my unlife. The Big Bad Wolf, ready to eat little Slayers right up on their way to their grand-watcher’s.”
She burst out laughing. It was something she’d almost never done back in the other timeline, so even if she was laughing at his expense, he couldn’t find it within himself to get upset. Instead he chuckled along, ignoring some of the patrons’ uneasy stares.
“You really have a thing for wolves, don’t you? You sure you didn’t want to be a werewolf instead of a member of the undead?”
“Nah. Sure, the walking around in the daytime is nice and all, but to completely lose control for a few nights a month is really not my style.”
The way her eyes widened reminded him of the Bit when she was trying to play him. “You mean werewolves are real?”
He frowned. “Sure. You’re sitting in a demon bar and talking to a vampire. Why wouldn’t there be werewolves somewhere out there?”
“Because—” she stopped and scrunched up her face. “What else is out real? Are there ghosts, aliens, or is there a Bigfoot?”
“Seen some ghosts, even a couple of Sasquatch, but I don’t know about aliens. I guess if you consider alternate realities and other dimensions as alien worlds, then sure, they exist. But I’ve never met any little green men. Well, except that one time in Cadiz, but those were just some type of elves.”
“Elves are real? Is Santa real too?”
He couldn’t help but smile. The Bit had asked him the exact same thing when she was hiding at his crypt at some time. “Yeah, but not exactly the Coke version. From what I hear it’s more Grampus than Jolly Saint Nick.” At her blank look he shrugged and elaborated. “More punishment for the wicked than treats for the good.”
She sat back in her seat. “Huh. The more you know.”
They kept talking about types of supernatural creatures he’d encountered and he found himself studying her reactions. Sure she could give Harmony a run for her money from time to time with some comment so vapid it made his ears bleed, but she was also very good at getting to the heart of a matter and she had a killer wit, which reminded him of other times.
Which made the decision he’d come to that much harder. “Pet, there’s something I was thinking about.”
The smile left her face in an instant. “Oh-oh. Nothing good comes after something like that.”
He snorted. “I guess you’ve got a point, but still needs to be said. The thing is I was thinking of going to Sunnydale a couple of weeks ahead of the rest of you lot.” Her face all but crumbled and he felt like a prick. “Not by much, mind you, just by a couple of weeks, once you’re starting to get ready for your move. Thing is I won’t be able to help you out too much with that, and instead I was hoping to get a lay of the land.”
“I thought you said you lived there for years.” Her voice was so cold it cut him to the bone.
“I did, but not in this time. I don’t know how the Master has things set up, or what else might have been lurking around the corner before I stepped foot in there. And I’d be acting as your eyes and ears, the trusty foot soldier back at work.”
“You’re not my soldier.” She sounded a bit offended.
“I know that. But I’m not your Watcher either and I bloody sure ain’t Peaches. I’m better fighting at your side, or doing your bidding than I am ordering you about and teaching you the correct stance in fisticuffs—never was much for Queensbury myself. Anyway, I’d be going out on a scouting mission, not abandoning you.” He touched her hand. “I’d never do that.”
She studied him through narrowed eyes then very slowly drained the last of her drink – more colored melted ice than anything by that point. “You still owe me a story.”
He was thrown by the non-sequitur.
“You still need to tell me about this ‘Angel’ guy that you sometimes call ‘Peaches’ and other such nice names.”
The thought didn’t sit at all well with Spike but he knew that sooner or later he’d have to explain. It seemed a good a time as any, so he started telling her about some of his most noteworthy memories of the Gelled Wonder. By the time his second whiskey was empty and the third bottle of beer was close to emptying as well he’d finally managed to recall his first sighting of the soul-having Angel.
“Thing is, though, that the souled version of the bugger was never that different from his unsouled one. It’s all about what Angelus wants. He talks to you, he does the ‘right thing,’ but in fact he’s making you do exactly what he wants. It always worked for him, especially with the birds. That’s how he’d get them to come willingly to his lair before he started making his ‘art’ with their blood.” He snorted in derision. “Before I was thrown back here I spent some months as a ghost haunting the offices of this big evil law firm he took over.”
“Some good guy.”
“’S what I said. But by the end there…” He shuddered. “He almost had me thinking his becoming CEO of Evil Inc. was a good idea.” He gave her a surreptitious look from under his lashes while she played with her second beer—technically his fifth, but he’d redirected a couple her way. “I knew all his tricks, all the ways he tells you one thing, meaning another, and making you think a third, and despite all that he still had me fooled. Took being thrown eight bloody years in the past to realize it, but he was a git and I was a wanker to listen to him.”
She was smirking at him. “You’re still not telling me the most important thing, though, are you?”
Damn her and her ability to cut through his smoke screen. Say what you want about Buffy Summers, but she sure wasn’t dumb. “You’re right, pet. Thing is Angel was your first love. You were fifteen and a newly minted Slayer, he was two hundred and fifty and the forbidden fruit. You could sell this shit to Hollywood in a heartbeat and all the high school chits would be lapping it up with a spoon.”
“You’re jealous.”
“It’s not a matter of me being jealous or not. Look, I don’t hide that I was in love with my Buffy, but even so, even with you being her, I’m not going to start sniffing around you and playing the night in midnight armor. You deserve better, you deserve more, you deserve to live your life and learn what’s out there, not fall under the thrall of someone who’ll make you grow up faster than you need to. It’s enough your calling is going to weigh you down, give you hell, and fuck you up. If there’s anything I’d wish for it would be one more day for you without the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
She was frowning at him. “So.. what, you don’t think you’re good for me? Don’t I get to choose what and who I want?”
That hurt him. How was it that he always ended up sounding more like Peaches and the Watcher despite his protests? This time travel thing must have done a bigger number on him than he thought. “Of course you do and trust me when I say that if you gave the word, I’d be your willing slave.” He pinned her with his eyes and grabbed her hand in both of his. “But it wouldn’t be fair for either of us. You’d be taking advantage of the feelings I have for someone that’s not you, or better put, you’re not her yet. And I’d be taking advantage of your lack of any options at the moment, and a possible small case of hero worship, since I pulled you out of the loony bin and gave you your first rum and coke and your first beer.” He grinned and she smiled as well. “Not the ideal way to start something that should last, is it? If, or when we ever decide to give it a try, it should be because we actually want it, and we really know each other as we are.” He gave her a small squeeze of her hand. “I don’t want a fling, or a high school romance. I want everything. I also want to give everything, and right now, with all the things that have happened to me in the last… let’s say year, I need some time to figure out what my everything is, too.”
There were tears in her eyes as she smiled and nodded at him. She tried to cover it by draining the last of her beer, but they both knew something big had happened between them. What that would lead to, only time will tell.





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