~*~

“Sodding humans!”

Buffy arched an eyebrow, amused in spite of herself. “It’s just a parking garage, Spike,” she pointed out, fighting to hold her revulsion towards him in.

“’s a parking garage with no free spots,” the vampire all but growled. “Pisses me off, it does.”

Part of her wondered why she was bothering with trying to placate him—but then, they were about to enter a large building teeming with humans. If he was mad, then she’d be putting all the humans in danger. “Well, there will be soon,” she said reasonably. “See, there’s someone coming out of the elevator now!”

Spike narrowed his eyes speculatively at the person in question. “Huh,” he said. “What say we run ‘em over an’ lift their wallet?” He moved his foot to the gas pedal.

“What? No!” Buffy all but yelled. Is he going to be like this all the time? “There will be no killing on my watch!”

Spike sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “’s bad enough I had t’ pay to leave m’ car in here,” he said petulantly. “Now you’re tellin’ me I can’t nick some bloke’s wallet?”

“Not if you’re going to kill him in the process!” Buffy exclaimed. Jesus, she hadn’t been this pissed off since…

Well, since the last time she’d had to work with Spike.

“Oh, okay.” Spike grinned mischievously. “So, I can take his wallet, I just have to leave ‘im alive.”

“What? No! I never said that!”

“Didn’t you?”

“Of course n—“ Buffy froze, remembering. He’s right. Dammit! She scowled. “Stupid vampire.”

Spike chuckled. “Knew I could get your knickers in a twist.”

“And this is something you take pride in?” Buffy asked sarcastically.

The vampire just smirked. “’f they weren’t afraid of you, d’you know how much some vamps would give just to be able to talk to you?”

“Um...nothing?” Buffy guessed. “They all want to kill me. You’re the only one who thinks striking up conversations is fun.”

“Really?” Spike spotted an empty space up ahead and zoomed towards it. “You tryin’ to tell me none of the vamps you dusted ever talked to you before? They can’t all’ve been pissin’ themselves in fear.”

“They were. I’m scary,” Buffy shot back.

He didn’t answer, though his face held a small smile as he pulled into the parking space.

When he cut the ignition Buffy said, “How much luggage do you have?”

He shrugged. “Just a bag ‘f clothes, is all. Why? You need me to carry some ‘f your baggage?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I have one clothes bag and one weapons bag. The weapons bag is big, since I figured you wouldn’t be bright enough to remember to bring any.”

“An’ we’re gonna convince the nice fellow at the gate to let us through with a bag full of weapons? Please, Slayer. That’s pathetic planning even for you.”

“Oh, right, like your plans are much better,” Buffy retorted. “You probably could’ve killed me if you waited just two more nights, but no, you couldn’t wait for St. Vigeous to come around. You had to try to kill me the day you rolled into Cleveland.”

“Yeah, well, patience is only a virtue ‘f you’re a monk or a virgin,” Spike retorted. “Besides, the fact remains that if I’d been patient, I would’ve had a bloody brilliant plan to bring you down.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said sarcastically. “You go on believing that.”

He started to respond, then stopped, a frown marring his brow. “Bloody hell. Think ‘m actually enjoyin’ myself.”

“What?” Buffy blinked, suddenly aware that despite their borderline arguing, she’d been smiling. “No—no you weren’t.”

“When did you start reading m’ mind? I was sodding well enjoying it,” Spike said irritably. “And you were, too.”

“Okay, slow down, bleach-boy,” she snapped. “You’re not exactly psychic either, you know, and I was in no way enjoying myself.”

“Oh, come off it, Goldilocks,” the vampire snapped impatiently. “You really thinkin’ you’re gonna weasel outta this? I tried to kill you for months, an’ you never smiled half this much.”

She was really getting tired of this. She knew her Watcher would have a heart attack if he ever found out she’d stooped low enough to argue with a vampire. I kill them. Nothing more, the Slayer inside her chanted.

But this time—it had been happening much too often of late—another part of her, the part that was sassy and smart and impossible to control, shot back, Right, if you count working and arguing with one like there’s no tomorrow killing him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. If she’d been smiling a few minutes before, she sure as hell wasn’t now. “I’m here to stop the world from ending. That is all.”

“Right, princess. ‘m sure believin’ that’ll make your life plenty easier.” He opened his car door and got out. “We’re leaving the weapons bag here,” he said in a flat voice before slamming his door.

Buffy rolled her eyes. As if I don’t have enough to deal with, now I have to deal with the moody undead?

Spike had always been moody, even back when they’d been mortal enemies. She couldn’t even count the number of fights where he’d be about to deal a final, possibly killing blow, but had stopped and run off into the night like a cartoon villain. That had always puzzled her—she’d spent hours wondering why he didn’t just kill her, why he seemed to want her alive...

She’d long ago come to the conclusion that all the hair dye had seeped into his brain and rendered him insane.

What she was starting to wonder was if she wasn’t insane, too, agreeing to work with a vampire like she was.

“’ey! Slayer! You gonna sit in the car all night? We got ourselves a plane to catch!”

Now he was jovial. She was never, ever going to get used to that. “I’m coming,” she grumbled, stepping out of the car. The first thing she did was scan the parking garage—yes, it was an airport, but it was Sunnydale Airport, which meant that just about anything could be lurking in the shadows.

Fortunately, though, she didn’t see or feel anything untoward—if you didn’t count the arrogant vampire she was currently traveling with—so she went to the back of the car and grabbed her bag.

Spike cocked a sardonic brow when he saw it. “Bit small, innit?”

“What? You expected me to have a trunk?” Buffy retorted, slamming the trunk of the car shut. “I travel light.”

“Obviously.” Spike squinted into the darkness. “So, wanna take bets on how many nasties are gonna attack us in between here and the elevator?”

“We should take the stairs,” Buffy replied, shouldering her pack and starting toward the exit. “And anyway, scary though airports are, I already checked. There’re no demons in here right now.”

“Why the bloody hell do we have to take the stairs?” Spike whined, jogging to catch up with her, his small black leather back obviously no impediment to him. “They’re too much work. You humans invented the elevator for a reason, y’know.”

Buffy turned back to him, already getting annoyed again. “Because I need to keep in top physical condition, and doing shit like taking the elevators is not going to help with that,” she spat. “Rule number one of being a Slayer: Exercise whenever possible. It’s my body’s strength that’s keeping me alive, Spike.”

It had been a formidable speech. Most people—and vampires—would have been at least a little intimidated by it. But Spike? Spike just rolled his eyes. “Dumbest reason ‘ve ever heard,” he said bluntly. “Do what you want, Slayer. I’m takin’ the elevator.”

“Right, then.” Buffy whirled around and began to stalk away, trying hard to ignore the frisson of uncertainty that ran through her when she thought of separating with him. It is only because I need his help for this venture to be a success, she told herself firmly. It has nothing to do with how hot I think he is or how the only time I’ve ever felt secure since I was chosen was when he was guarding my back…Jesus fucking Christ, I’m screwed up! She picked up her pace towards the stairs, moving with renewed determination. He wanted to take the elevator? Fine by her. She wasn’t going to complain, she was going to ignore her un-Slayer-ey feelings and walk right up the—

She froze, dropping her bag. The stairs. The demon-infested stairs. Now that she was just a few feet away from them, the back of her neck was tingling like crazy. Apparently, they were so seldom used that an entire nest of vampires had set up shop.

Well, at least airport security didn’t have a wood detector. She could keep her stakes.

She instantly dropped into a kneeling position, reaching into her cargo pants and grabbing a stake, before crawling towards the foot of the stairs. She could hear Spike muttering something, but she blocked the noise out, concentrating on the tingling in her neck, which was growing stronger and stronger. At least one vampire, probably more, was coming right down the stairs.

Grim-faced, she clutched the stake harder—and waited for them to come to her.

*

Spike narrowed his eyes when he saw Buffy crouch down, for all the world looking like a soldier in one of those poncy action movies with all the pretty boys and fake guns. “What the hell are you up to, Slayer?” he muttered, leaning against a car and watching with enjoyment as she grabbed a stake and inched closer. Funny how even when she was scooting across the cement, she still had that incredible grace he admired in her.

He got his answer when two vamps came into view. They grinned when they saw Buffy, the effect rather horrendous on their dirty, bumpy faces. Spike himself grinned—he loved watching her fight, and as a third vamp appeared behind the first two, he knew he was going to get quite a show this time.

“What’s a little girl like you doin’ down there in the dark, honey?” one of them called.

Spike saw Buffy’s posture stiffen. She’d always hated it when he ribbed her on her height. “Okay, did you or did you not notice the stake in my hand?” she demanded irritably.

The third vampire to come in nudged the other two. “Dude, I think she might be the Slayer,” he whispered, clearly afraid.

Spike barely suppressed a snort. Just figured that out now, did you, mate? He’d known she was the Slayer even before one of his lackeys had pointed her out back in Cleveland. The girl exuded power.

Apparently Buffy was equally unimpressed with the threesome, because she said coldly, “Duh, I’m the Slayer. Now can I kill your undead asses already, or are you going to poke each other and whisper some more?”

“Aw, crap,” one of the ones in the front said. “Can’t we just, like, not do this?”

“Sorry,” she said, hefting the stake, “But killing you? Yeah, it’s kind of my job description.” And with that, the leapt at the one nearest her.

Pandemonium broke loose, of course, with plenty of kicking and girl power stuff, but Spike didn’t notice any of it. He was stuck on the first part of what she’d said.

Kind of my job description.

She’d quoted him. Was she even aware that she had? He rather thought not...still, it made him grin.

He began to walk toward her as she was whaling on the third and last vampire. She punched him, kicked him back against the wall, and staked him, as neatly and precisely as you please. He was about to offer her his congratulations when he realized that she wasn’t stopping—she whirled around and placed a stake against his chest.

“’ey! Watch it, Slayer!” he yelled, nearly overtaken by panic. “Bloody hell, you’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

She shrugged and put the stake back in her pocket. “You can’t get heart attacks,” she informed him primly. “And it’s not my fault. Your signature said ‘vampire’. I was acting on instinct.”

“You’ve been bloody conditioned by that prat of a Watcher of yours,” he muttered. Jesus. One more inch and... he shuddered.

“Conditioned?” She gave him a blank look.

“Yeah, you know, like where they ring the bell an’ the dogs drool?” To be honest, Spike didn’t understand it...modern science shit was not his specialty.

“What the hell are you talking about? And if it’s a school thing than you might as well forget it, I dropped out when I was sixteen.”

Now it was Spike’s turn to look blank. “Why’d you do that?”

She sighed. “Just...because. Okay?”

“Lemme guess,” Spike drawled. “Watcher-boy told you school distracted you from your duties an’ made you quit?” He could tell he was right, because she flinched—almost imperceptibly, but it was definitely there.

He shook his head. “You’re his soddin’ lapdog, aren’t you?”

“It’s none of your Goddamn business,” she snapped, but the slight quaver in her voice betrayed how she really felt. If anything, that made her angrier—her face was starting to turn purple.

Spike chuckled. Not many vamps got to push the Slayer’s buttons with impunity...”C’mon, Slayer,” he said, walking up to the elevator. “Let’s just get this over with.”