A/N: Thanks go to Sue and Niamh for the beta!


Chapter 2: Shadows and Eyes.


“So the professor seemed to really like my paper,” Buffy announced with a smile.

“Uh ha.”

Buffy’s brow crinkled in annoyance at Spike’s seeming disinterest in what she was saying. This wasn’t normal behaviour for him. Well maybe for the Spike of old, but the Spike of the last few weeks? Completely out of character. And she didn’t like it. Deciding she would test to see just how much attention he was paying to what she was saying, she continued.

“Before class Will and I grabbed coffees at the Espresso Pump and we were served by an old guy who looked like a goat.”

Spike nodded, his eyes scanning the graveyard.

Pouting, Buffy continued. “He had whiskers and I think he might have even had a tail underneath his apron.”

Again she got nothing.

“So Willow dared me to go ask him if he did in fact have a tail, so I did…” she continued slowly, her annoyance growing now that she knew that Spike wasn’t listening to what she was saying. “And he said he’d show me if I flashed my breasts.”

“Uh ha.”

And three, two, one…

She saw in his expression as the words finally sank in and prepared for his reaction.

“You WHAT?” Spike snapped to attention, his nostrils flaring as he whirled on Buffy.

Buffy shrugged, feigning nonchalance as she continued walking through the graveyard, her own attention drifting as she began to scan. “Turns out he doesn’t have a tail after all.”

“You… he saw… did…?” Spike spluttered, finding it difficult to form a coherent sentence. When Buffy didn’t seem to be slowing, he leapt forward and snatched her arm, whirling her around and crushing her against his body. “You flashed him?” he asked, his tone low and simmering with rage.

“No,” Buffy replied simply, wondering how long it would take him to notice she wasn’t struggling and release his iron hold on her arms.

“No?” he blinked in confusion. “But you just said…”

“I know what I just said. I didn’t know if you were listening to me since all I could get out of you was ‘Oh’ and ‘Ah’,” she said quietly, her hands splaying across his chest when he finally began to relax. “I lied,” she added with a shrug. “Had to find out if you were listening somehow.”

Spike blinked, shaking his head in disbelief when he realized what she was saying. He had been drifting in and out of his thoughts but he didn’t think he deserved that sort of treatment. If she knew what he was thinking about, that he was only worrying about her…

“That wasn’t very nice pet,” he scolded, his fingers trailing down her arms before his hands grasped at her hips and slammed her against him. “I should punish you for that.”

Buffy lifted her chin in defiance. “Do it,” she dared.

A rush of arousal rolled through Spike and seconds later his lips were attacking hers in a bruising kiss. It was a kiss of dominance, of possession. It was his way of asserting control over her, expressing physically she was his and his only.

Buffy returned the kiss with equal fervor, her tongue forcing into his mouth and battling with his. She knew quite well what he was doing, he was trying to dominate her. She also knew he was aware that she could reverse their roles quicker than he could blink. But she didn’t want to.

His hard chest slammed up against her as one of his hands left her hip and slid up her spine, eliciting a murmur of delight when his touch caused a shiver to roll over her. Her nipples hardened into twin peaks at the friction between their bodies.

Spike groaned into Buffy’s mouth as his traveling hand fisted in her hair. God, he wanted her… he wanted her so bad. The more time they spent together like this, the harder it was to maintain his control.

They shouldn’t be doing this here, not where they could be seen so easily. Being seen together by the demon underworld was not a good idea. It would only cause problems, put them at risk. It was thinking their actions could put her life in danger, which caused Spike to tear his lips away from hers.

Buffy immediately leant forward, seeking more contact but Spike held her firmly at arms length. A wounded expression filled her eyes that cut him right to the bone. He saw the rejection reflected in her expressive eyes and immediately jumped on the defensive.

“No, baby,” he insisted. “It’s not that I don’t want you.”

The worry in her eyes began to ebb. “Then what?”

His hand swept around the graveyard. “We’re supposed to be keepin’ a low profile pet. Snoggin’ out in the open in a place like this ‘s not the definition of discrete.”

Buffy grinned. “I forgot where we were,” she admitted. “I got so wrapped up and…”

Now Spike grinned. The fact that he could get his girl so worked up that all she focused on was him, was something he was proud of. “Well, when you put it like that,” he purred.

Buffy lifted a finger to his lips. “Not here,” she decided, her eyes looking around the cemetery for somewhere more private. Shady Hill was a cemetery known for it large trees and its equally great mausoleums. In a far off corner to her right, she spotted what she was looking for - the Peterson Crypt. It was large and private, with only a few small stained-glass windows cloudy with age, making it nearly impossible for any light to shine through the muck. The only illumination was a bare glimmer of moonlight, hardly enough to see by, much less penetrate the crypt. Best of all, the crypt was never locked.

“This way,” Buffy insisted when she reached for Spike’s hand and grabbed hold, eagerly tugging him in the direction of the structure.

Reaching the small door she pushed it open, checking over her shoulder to make sure they hadn’t been spotted before they both ducked inside, the door closing quietly behind them.

“This is much better,” Buffy smiled, immediately wrapping her arms around Spike’s neck and drawing his lips down to meet hers.

The kiss was just as eager and passion filled as their earlier make-out session in the Magic Box, but it was cut short by Spike’s curious nature. “How did you find out about this place?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow, the dim light in the crypt barely enough for Spike to see her expression but he heard the wry tone in her voice. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

“Right, shutting up now,” Spike announced, claiming her lips once more as he pressed her up against the door.

~~~

Giles had been taking advantage of the reprieve of apocalyptic battles by catching up on research. Living on a Hellmouth meant there was always the promise of further dangers in the future. At the moment he was working on a recording project. It was apparent his journals had been severely ignored since the Council fired him as Buffy’s official watcher. With his recent rehiring thanks to Buffy, he found his life suddenly had old expectations thrust upon it, one being the recording of his Slayer’s battles.

Obviously, being in no position to recall every minor fight with a vampire Buffy had partaken in over the last year and a half, Giles was sticking to the more notable fights; the Gentleman, the Queller, the Polgara demons, Maggie Walsh and her Initiative, Faith’s return to town, Adam, Glory and her minions, and even his own experiences as a Fyarl demon. There had been something learned in all of the encounters which was why they were being documented.

The first series of battles he had documented however had been regarding Darla. The circumstances surrounding her return to the town were of nothing major; Darla’s goal had been to return her former lover to her side and dispose of the girl responsible for her second death. It was the mystical pregnancy that intrigued Giles. However, for the sake of Angel and his team’s safety, all his records were being sent to Wesley in LA. A vampiric pregnancy was definitely something the Watcher’s Council would be incredibly interested in, and that wasn’t a good thing.

That particular journal had been delivered to Wesley personally by Xander and Anya a week ago to ensure its arrival to the right hands.

Right now Giles was finishing up the reports about his demonic transformation from the previous year. The fact Buffy had been able to recognize him even though he looked nothing like his human self was still something Giles was surprised by.

Noting the hour, Giles decided it was as good a time as any to head home. Buffy would be checking in with him tomorrow morning and the shop had long since been closed to customers. Standing at his desk the watcher slipped his jacket on and grabbed his keys. He only made it a few paces from his desk before curiosity got the better of him.

Dropping his keys next to the telephone he picked up the receiver and dialed a now familiar number. It rang several times before it picked up at the other end.

“Angel Investigations, we help the helpless.”

“Cordelia, it’s Rupert Giles calling. I was wondering if Wesley were available.”

“Hey, Giles!” Cordelia greeted chirpily when she recognized the voice. “Sure, I’ll just get him.”

The muffled sounds of movement were heard when the line was put down at the other end and Giles waited patiently for Wesley to pick it up.

“Wesley speaking.”

“Wesley, it’s Rupert Giles. I was just calling to check on the progress of the pregnancy.” Giles laughed apologetically. “It’s not often one gets to witness a vampire gestating.”

“Very true,” Wesley replied with a chuckle. “Everything seems to be going as per normal. Darla is being kept contained in a suite upstairs and has minimal contact with --”

“Good Lord, she’s staying in the hotel?!” Giles gasped in surprise. “I understand she is weakened by her current condition but Darla is still a very powerful vampire, one of the cruelest and deadliest to have ever lived.”

“We’re well aware of that,” Wesley pointed out. “However, we are quite confident with her imprisonment, using both magical barriers and steel bars over every surface. Including the walls.”

“I see,” Giles chuckled. “I do apologise. I trust that my journal has been of some use?” he continued to inquire.

“Very much so, thank you.”

“No trouble at all. Well, I must be off,” Giles farewelled. “Goodnight.”

Returning the receiver to its cradle, Giles picked up his keys and left the shop.

~~~

Shadows cling to the trees like chewing gum to pavement, their hold unrelenting. A full moon shone bright light down upon the resting place of lost souls, yet not bright enough to penetrate the darkness that clings around the grand old oak tree near the cemetery’s exit. The thick foliage creates a shroud over the surrounding headstones, concealing them in darkness. This is a corner where many a late night mourner has tripped and stumbled, having fallen victim to the accidental hiding of the grave markings.

Tonight there are no mourners in the graveyard. That is not unusual in a town such as Sunnydale. People disappeared at night in this town. The local authorities and government may play dumb as to the high mortality rate in such a small town, but the inhabitants of Sunnydale did not. Those who had been in town for a while soon came to understand it wasn’t safe for the populace to travel outside, alone, at night. Nor was it safe for animals to be kept outdoors, especially not a pet beloved by its owners. It was not uncommon to find a collar and a smear of red staining on one’s doorstep, the only evidence left behind that the animal had ever existed.

The air was silent this night, neither the bark of a dog nor the putt-putting of a car engine to be heard. On nights like this, the townspeople stayed inside with doors locked, windows shut and curtains drawn. The full moon put fear into the hearts and minds of Sunnydalers, only the crazy and the young ventured out into the night when the moon was in this phase of the lunar cycle. That made it the opportune time for one to slip into town unnoticed. In a small town such as this, strangers were detected very readily, but it was hard to be identified with windows shrouded and doors barred.

A leaf broke free from the old oak tree and began its final fluttering descent to the earth floor, twisting and turning on unseen wind as if it had a life of its own. About three quarters of the way down in its descent to the ground it stopped, frozen in mid air.

A flash of blue light followed by the popping sound of a balloon going bust and the leaf combusted, the tiny remaining particles scattering in the wind.

There is something is different about the oak tree tonight. Some thing is hiding beneath its great branches. The shadows beneath it swirl and dance, clinging to the trunk like an infant to its mother. The air surrounding is abuzz with static energy; anything daring to enter the shadow’s realm would likely not be seen again, just as the leaf.

Eyes watch from within the shadow, trained upon a particular hulking stone creation that served as a monument to a long since departed citizen of this deceptively peaceful little town.

A creak of metal grinding against itself breaks the silence of the night as the gateway to the tomb opens. The blonde head of a female pokes out through the opening, scouting the area for witnesses before she steps out into the night. Moments later a male companion with hair brighter than hers exits as well, his eyes mimicking the search pattern of his female counterpart.

The male sweeps up behind the female and scoops her up in his arms, much to the girl’s delight. A lighthearted giggle erupts from her lips as she twists in his arms to lay a possessive kiss on his puckered lips.

“What happened to incognito?” she asks with a raised brow when she is set back on her feet.

“Can’t manage to keep my hands to m’self when you’re around,” he responds with a leer.

The female rolls her eyes and laughs some more before she begins marching in the direction of the exit of the burial ground. The male jogs to catch up with her and the pair walk at a leisurely pace towards the wrought iron gates.

From within the shadows the eyes watch, intrigued by the display of affection between two whom should by all accounts be mortal enemies. This night has brought great surprises and information to be used to advantage.

The male stops suddenly, his eyes darting to the shadows, brow scrunching low in doubtful examination. For a long moment the being in the shadows freezes.

“What is it?” the female questions with a matching frown, her eyes scanning the area her partner is staring so fixatedly at. She sees nothing out of the ordinary.

“S’nothin’,” the male finally answers, tearing his glance away from the darkness and towards her.

A light kiss is pressed to her temple before the pair continues. The male throws one last glance in the direction of the shadow as they exit through the gates.

The eyes within the shadow blink once with relief as held breath is exhaled.

A snap of fingers and the invisible barrier disperses, the being stepping out from the shadows.

Tomorrow night, it will begin.



~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Hope you like! Any comments would be greatly appreciated.