The fabulous banner is by the awesomely talented Ben Rostock.

Chapter 3

“You a minion?” exclaimed Giles, amazed. “Whatever gave you that idea, Buffy? You’re not a vampire. A stronger vampire can force a weaker vampire to agree to be a minion, yes. But vampires cannot force humans into becoming minions.”

Buffy let out a breath of relief, then turned her head to listen as Cordelia’s voice floated in from just outside the library doors, telling Harmony about what had happened last night at the Bronze.

“Well, I heard it was rival gangs,” Cordelia was saying. “You know, fighting for turf? But all I can tell you is they were an ugly way of looking. I mean, I don't even remember that much, but I'm telling you, it was a freak show!”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

Giles shrugged resignedly. “People have a tendency to rationalize what they can and forget what they can't,”

“Yeah, that happened back in L.A. They blamed everything on me.” Buffy sighed. “Getting back to the point, is there any way that a vamp can control a human?”

“There’s something called a thrall. But you’re too strongminded for that, Buffy. It would need a very old and powerful vampire like Dracula or the Master to seize your mind. I don’t think even someone as old as Darla could do it. Oh, wait! There is one other thing a vampire can use to control a human. A claim.”

“What’s that?”

Giles was searching through books. “A mutual claim between vampires or even between a vampire and a human is like a marriage, linking the two of them together and giving them equal power over each other. A one way claim however really is like owning a minion. The one who makes the claim has all the power and the one who is claimed has to obey.”

“Giles!”

“But you have to agree, Buffy! That’s the out. The one who is being claimed has to say yes.”

“And I’d never do that! Are you sure, Giles? This is important.”

“You’re safe. Here.” Giles held out a book. “Read for yourself.”

Buffy very carefully read the chapter he pointed out and saw that he had indeed given her the correct information. Spike had been twisting her tail. Laughing at her. Giving her a scare just for the hell of it. Damn him!

“I need training,” she said reluctantly. “Merrick was training me back in L.A. But Lothos killed him. I need to learn how to fight better. Spike said I got Luke just by a fluke and he was right. And Spike himself is way beyond me. I’m nowhere near his level.”

“Crossbows,” suggested Giles. “That would let you dust him from a distance.”

“Mm.” But Buffy wasn’t going to use crossbows. That wasn’t playing fair. Especially when Spike had made it clear that he wasn’t going to kill her, at least not for a while. And when he did decide to kill her, he would tell her first. He had his own kind of honor, strange as that was for a demon. He wanted that third notch on his belt, but he wanted to win that notch fair and square.

“I do agree that you need training, Buffy,” Giles was saying. “I’m so pleased that you realize it and suggest it yourself. The Council does have a training regimen laid out.”

He somehow managed to get after hours access to the gym where she could use the punching bags and do tumbling runs and other exercises. That helped and would keep her fit, but Buffy had a sinking feeling that all these exercises weren’t teaching her how to fight.

“Step by step,” insisted Giles. “It takes time. You have to learn how to walk before you can run.”

The thing was—how much time did she really have? The Master and Darla and their Order were keeping low for a while, set back by their defeat at the Harvest. But how long would that last?

“Finally taking the Slayer bit seriously, are you?” Spike’s voice mocked behind her in Tranquility cemetery while she was doing what had now come to be her regular patrol. “Makes me tremble with fear, that does.”

She spun to face him. He was sitting comfortably on a tombstone, smoking and grinning at her. She glowered at him.

“Do you have a thrall?”

He laughed outright. “Nah. Have to be really old for that. Or have a knack for it and I don’t. Even Darla doesn’t and Angelus never did. Dru does though, so I’d watch out for that if you ever go up against her, Slayer.”

“So what was all that minion crap you handed me then?”

“Put a scare into you, dinnit? Made you look.” He smirked at her. “Ignorance is never bliss, Slayer. It’s just stupidity. Don’t like to read, do you? Don’t like to put yourself to the trouble of learning. But not knowing what Slayers can or can’t do will get you killed. There’s a handbook, y’know.”

“What?”

“Slayer handbook. Your Watcher hasn’t even told you about it because he knows you couldn’t be bothered to crack it open. Suggest you do take a look at it though. A little knowledge wouldn’t hurt. You need it.”

“God, you’re a smug bastard!”

“You might scare the fledglings, Slayer. But you don’t scare me. Even with the ‘training’ you’re doing right now. All those cute little exercises your Watcher’s come up with. The slow-mo Tai Chi crap. The rope skipping, tits bouncing, ass jiggling. Real nice to look at, but won’t get you far when it comes to real combat.”

She glared at him. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Yeah, sure. Gave me a giggle. Only way to learn to fight is to fight, Summers.” He drew a last drag at his cigarette, then flicked the stub away. “Trouble is, you’ve got no one to fight with. The Watcher’s no good. Just a wuss. He throws a punch at you, you knock him cold. Want a sparring partner, Slayer?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nah. Want you up to speed. Want a real challenge when it’s time to take you down. Right now you’re a pushover, pet. Boring. And it’s gonna be fun kicking your ass on a daily basis.”

She snarled and poised her stake. “It’s not gonna be that easy!”

“Oh, it will. I’ll even leave you your stake. Won’t make no never mind.” He flashed at her, struck it aside and delivered a solid blow that sent her tumbling away ten feet on the turf. “See?”

She recovered her feet and threw herself at him, humiliated and furious.

“Got guts, pet,” he said with pleasure. “Gotta give you that. But what you need is skill. Gonna teach you that.”

She did better than she had that first night that they had fought, but he still kicked her ass. She got in a few good shots, which was something, but she was still bruised and bloody and barely able to stand by the time he called a halt.

“What this really is,” she said bitterly, leaning against a tombstone to stay on her feet, “is softening me up for the Master’s minions.”

“Oh, no, Slayer,” he said softly. “This is making you all you can be. This is boot camp. My boot camp.”

“Beating me up like this?”

“One learns by doing. By taking the shit. You’ll heal, sweet. You’re a Slayer. As long as I don’t kill you or damage you too much, you’ll heal by tomorrow. And then we’ll do it all over again.”

“I should use those crossbows Giles suggested!”

“But you won’t. That would be admitting you haven’t got the right stuff, Summers.” He flashed to stand right in front of her, caught her jaw in his hand and jerked her face up so that they were staring into each other’s eyes. “I’ll always be checking you out first. I see a crossbow and we’re done playing. I’ll take you down right away and get that third notch on my belt.”

“Fuck you!”

“Think I might like that.” His face was alight with laughter and mockery, long creases slashing down his cheeks. “You keep bringing that up, it might give me ideas.”

She tried to shove him away angrily, but her arms were rubbery. He bent suddenly and kissed her with that wicked expertise that turned her bones to water and sent fire blazing through her every nerve. By the time he lifted his head, she could only gasp. He licked at the trickle of blood that a blow had left running from the corner of her mouth.

“Slayer blood,” he purred and his eyes went half-lidded in heavy sensuality. “Tasty. I’d forgotten what a rush that is.”

“Bastard!”

“Me Mum says not. See you tomorrow, Slayer,” he laughed and flashed away, disappearing into the shadows in an instant.

No way was she letting this go on. She limped home and spent a long time soaking out her bruises in the bathtub. He had been careful not to break any of her bones or do any damage that would incapacitate her for more than a day. By morning, she was fully recovered just like he said, all ready to take another beating that night. She hated this cat and mouse game that he was playing.

“You want the Slayer handbook?” Giles gasped, totally flabbergasted. “Of course you can have it! I never thought you’d want it!”

“Wanna read up on Slayers,” muttered Buffy.

Giles beamed approvingly at her. “I’m so glad you’re taking things seriously at last.”

Buffy glowered.

“Go away!” she snarled at Spike when he turned up that night.

He laughed. “And here I was thinking we were having such fun, Slayer.”

“I’m through playing your games! I’m not going to fight you and you can’t make me. You won’t kill me. Not for another month, you said. You’re getting too much of a charge kicking me around. No more! I’m done.”

He put one foot up on a tombstone and leaned on his bent knee, smiling. “Pride, is it? You don’t like losing.”

“No, what I don’t like is being made a punching bag for your entertainment!”

“Think if you just refuse to play, you won’t lose? That’s losing on a big scale. That’s chickening out. ’Course you don’t like losing. No true warrior does. It burns them. Chews them right up. Gotta win. Only way to win though is to get good enough.”

She gave him a resentful look.

“You’re a warrior, Slayer. You won’t quit.”

“I just did.”

“Oh, no, no. Can’t let you do that, pet. Old Batface’s planning things with Darla. His minions are swarming all over Sunnydale. You don’t have time to be peevish, sweet. Your training’s gotta be accelerated and your Watcher’s pattycake exercises aren’t gonna cut it.”

“I can handle minions,” she growled.

“Stubborn bint, aren’t you? Just have to be contrary. Don’t like losing face. Sorry, but life demands that you do what’s needful, pet.”

She scowled at him. She had done what was needful. She had finally accepted having to be a Slayer. She didn’t have to accept being tormented by a cocky, arrogant vamp.

“Staying alive’s not incentive enough? Well, there are other incentives, Slayer.”

He flashed at her suddenly, taking her completely by surprise, was at her back, wrapping his arms about her so that her elbows were locked against her sides. Instinctively she began to struggle, then remembered that was what he wanted and forced herself to stay still.

“You won’t kill me,” she said scornfully.

“No, I won’t,” he said, amused. “I do keep my word. But I didn’t say I wouldn’t drink from you.”

Her eyes flew wide with shock and this time she did struggle. But it was too late. She had allowed him the advantage and he had her wrapped up tight. She couldn’t move her body and even twisting her head couldn’t keep his mouth from her neck. She tried to kick his legs out from under him, but he anticipated that and she failed. He laughed against her neck, then she felt the sting of his fangs sinking into her flesh and then the drain as he drank.

He took a slow sip and purred. “God, that’s good! Nothing like Slayer blood. Delectable stuff.”

“Damn you!”

He shoved her away, laughing. “Don’t want me to drink your blood? Then stop me. We’ve both got incentives now. Don’t fight me, I drink. Fight me and lose, I drink. The only way to stop me from taking a sip is to win. Coming at ya, Slayer.”

Of course she fought. And of course he kicked her ass.

“You’ll recover from that too,” he grinned after taking his sip when she was too exhausted to prevent him. It hurt. She had heard that it didn’t have to, that he could make it not hurt. But this was intended as punishment. “Slayer blood on tap. Oh, yeah. Things are really looking up. See if you can do better tomorrow, pet.”

Maybe tomorrow she’d have Giles or Xander take him out with a crossbow first, Buffy thought furiously. But she knew she wouldn’t. He’d have the better of her if she did that. This contest was between them. It was personal and bringing outsiders in would be to lose. He would be dust, but she would have cheated to make him so. She didn’t cheat and neither did he. Theirs was a twisted kind of honor, but they were warriors. They understood each other.

“What are you doing?” asked Willow, coming across Buffy searching through the stacks in the library. “I thought research was Giles’ thing, not yours.”

Buffy carefully adjusted the scarf she had around her neck to make sure that the bite marks Spike had left on her neck were safely hidden.

“I just wanted a couple of books on hand-to-hand combat.”

“Isn’t Giles training you?”

“Well, you know. A little extra study never hurts. Ooh. This looks good.”

Willow peered over her shoulder. “Thai style fighting? Is that like kickboxing?”

“Sort of. It utilizes every part of the body. Hands, elbows, feet, shins. Strikes and kicks and leaps. Just what I need,” said Buffy with satisfaction.

“Where did I hear of that Thai thing before?” Willow snapped her fingers suddenly. “Dwayne in history class! He was talking about that last year. I think he had a couple of VHS tapes. He’d probably copy them for you if you asked him. Oh, but maybe you only have a DVD player.”

“We’ve got one of those combo things. Dwayne, huh?”

Dwayne was perfectly willing to copy the tapes for her for a price. Buffy paid it with no hesitation and Dwayne promised to drop off the tapes at her house once school was done. Buffy spent the day reading the Thai book surreptitiously under cover of the textbook of whatever subject it was she was supposed to be learning about, Willow elbowing her whenever a teacher showed signs of noticing or asking her a question.

The tapes Dwayne duly delivered proved useful as they demonstrated what the book only talked about. Buffy watched them intently, then went out into the back yard to practice some of the moves. Her Slayer abilities allowed her to pick the basics quickly, though she knew it would take a lot of practice to become truly proficient at it. Still, she might take Spike off guard if he wasn’t familiar with the style.

“Thai!” exclaimed Spike delightedly when she tried one of the kicks on him that night. “Watcher didn’t teach you that!”

“So you know it,” she said with disappointment.

“Oh, yeah.” He grinned at her. “Been at this game a hundred and twenty years, Slayer. There isn’t a fighting style I don’t know. You’re not doing it quite right though.”

“No one to show me,” she shrugged. “Getting it off diagrams and tapes.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda handicapped having only a Watcher for an instructor. They’re into books, not martial arts. Doesn’t seem quite fair.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “How about a truce for tonight? I don’t bite you, you don’t stake me, and I’ll show you the moves. Once you have them down, you can practice on the punching bag.”

“Okay.”

She had a good memory and he was a careful and precise teacher.

“The angle is important for maximum thrust,” he said, demonstrating a kick. “See how it goes in slow-mo? The left foot goes here. The right leg bends like so. See the angle? Then it snaps out. You’ll find yourself going off the ground and then the ball of the foot will impact. Try it. Right!” he said with satisfaction as she did it a couple of times in slow-mo. “Now really do it and aim for my hand here.”

She accurately impacted on the hand he held at head height and he grinned.

“Perfect. That’s my Slayer. It just comes to you, doesn’t it, once you’re shown the move.”

She shook her head suddenly. “This is weird.”

“What is?”

“You teaching me how to take you down.”

He laughed and reached out to flick away the scarf she still wore around her neck. “I’m still levels ahead of you, pet. It won’t be that easy. Maybe in a month or so, if you practice. In the meantime, I’ll be getting a heck of a lot of sips of Slayer blood.”

He brushed the fading bite mark on her neck with his thumb and grinned. She shoved his hand away, half-amused, half-exasperated.

“You’re a very strange vamp, Spike.”

“That’s what they keep telling me. Don’t fool yourself, Slayer. I’ll eat you quite happily when the time comes.”

“No quarter.”

“None.”

“And I’ll dust you without a thought.” She grinned nastily right back at him and they both laughed. “Now show me the next move.”

“Goes like this...”

She learned fast and, now that she knew how the moves should go, she practiced them over and over again. She was getting better, the exhausting hours of hammering kicks and hits into the punching bag starting to pay off. He still bit her on the nights when they sparred instead of him demonstrating new moves, but she was holding him off longer. It wasn’t so easy for him to beat her any more. He was starting to have to work for it, she found with satisfaction. She could see the pleasure and satisfaction in his face too. It was weird, but he was taking a kind of proprietary pride in the way she was shaping up.

It was becoming a routine now to meet him in the graveyard after her patrol, to fight and learn. They often ended up sitting on the tombstones chatting afterwards. He’d seen a lot in his hundred and twenty years as a vamp and had missed nothing. His take on things was interesting and she found she was enjoying his company. Also, talking to him gave her insights on the way vamps’ minds worked, though she could clearly see that he was not a typical vamp.

“’Course we have feelings!” he said scornfully one time when she mentioned something in her Slayer’s handbook. “That’s Watchers’ Council bullshit. Anything with a brain has feelings, even the smallest brained snake or lizard or little bird. I’ve seen them respond.”

“Not family feeling. Not love. You didn’t give a damn when I dusted that Angelus guy and he was your grandsire, wasn’t he?”

“Hated his guts, Slayer. He put me through hell when I was a fledgling and couldn’t fight back. Don’t think much of Darla either. But you lay a finger on Dru and I’ll kill you. Love? I’ve loved Dru a hundred and twenty years.”

His face had gone cold and lethal, his eyes slitted in menace and his lips pulled tightly back against his clenched teeth. She looked at him with interest.

“You do, don’t you? Does she love you back?”

“Yes!” he said with unnecessary force, then his gaze dropped, avoiding her eyes. “As much as she can.”

Buffy said nothing, sensing the vulnerability.

“Maybe it’s just me,” he muttered at last. “I always wondered about that. Maybe I’m not a proper vamp. Too much left in me from what I was before my turning, could be.”

She frowned. “Giles said that nothing was left of the person after a turning. That it wasn’t Jesse, say. Just the thing that killed him.”

“Those Council sods would say that. Makes it easier to kill us if you think we’re just the demon. But the demon merges with the personality of the turned, Slayer. How much of that personality remains depends on the strength of the individual. Most aren’t that strong. Don’t think ‘is he, isn’t he?’ when you’re going after the Master’s minions. Just dust ’em. You can’t afford to hesitate.”

She nodded. She was working her way through the Order every night, dusting them whenever they came out to feed and she got a chance. The Order was haemorrhaging badly with those losses and the Master was furious, Spike told her.

Other things were also happening. Even closed, the Hellmouth put out energy and demons were drawn to it. Witches at the school, teachers who turned out to be giant freaking praying mantises... Like she didn’t have her hands full already. Giles had found another stupid prophecy, this one about the Master acquiring some sort of important ally. Some new monster called the Anointed One. Giles was researching that.

What with patrol and Spike and the Order, her social life was in the toilet. She hadn’t even had one date since she came to Sunnydale. Xander kept trying of course. But honestly! Xander? He was like a brother. She just couldn’t see him any other way.

And then Owen Thurman asked her for a date. Owen! All the girls in the school drooled over Owen, and that included Cordelia, who always bragged about being able to get any guy she wanted. But Owen asked Buffy!

So why was she so unenthused?

Because he was like...nothing, compared to Spike. Oh God! she thought in shocked horror. She was comparing every guy she saw with Spike. And of course there was no comparison. No boy her own age was going to measure up to Spike, was ever going to be anywhere as cool or sexy or goodlooking or experienced. But Spike was a vamp and evil and had no soul. Besides, Spike was in love with Dru. He had been very open about that. Loving Dru was part of him, no doubt or question about it.

She couldn’t allow herself to obsess about Spike, to make comparisons or even think of him like that. It was fundamentally wrong in so many ways. Humans, for Pete’s sake, Buffy, you moron! Concentrate on humans, the way it’s supposed to be. Not vamps. Never a vamp. That was just plain unnatural, hot though the damned man might be.

She said yes to that date with Owen.

Of course, Giles had to come up with a stumbling block. Buffy was beginning to think that Slayers were really doomed not to have a social life. He had figured out that prophecy. It seemed that the Anointed One was a warrior who would arise ‘from the ashes of the Five on the evening of the thousandth day after the Advent of Septus.’ Which turned out to be the evening of her date with Owen. What else?

“Buffy, this is no ordinary vampire,” Giles insisted. “We have to stop him before he reaches the Master.”

“But...Cute guy!” yelped Buffy. “Teenager! Post-pubescent fantasies!”

“Those will just have to be put on hold,” said Giles sternly.

So another night spent in the graveyard, except this time with Giles. And it was a bust. Nothing happened except for Spike turning up and smirking at her behind Giles’ back, then disappearing before Giles noticed At least once they finally called the whole thing off in defeat, Giles did apologize for ruining her evening.

Owen bought her excuse for not showing and they set up another date for the next night.

And of course Giles turned up just before Owen arrived to pick her up.

“Buffy's not home!” Buffy tried to close the door in his face, but he pushed in without even noticing.

“My calculations may not have been as far off as I thought.” He held up a newspaper.

Buffy looked at the headline. “‘Five Die in Van Accident.’”

“‘Out of the ashes of five shall rise the one.’ That's the prophecy! Five people have died!”

“In a car crash.”

“I know it doesn't quite follow, but...but it's worth investigating. Look! ‘Among the dead was Andrew Borba, whom the police sought for questioning in a double murder.’ Now he may be the Anointed One. The bodies have been taken to Sunnydale Funeral Home. We can...”

“I have a date!”

“Another date?” Giles frowned. “Don't you ever do anything else?”

“This is the first date!” snarled Buffy in outrage. “You screwed up last night’s! This is my maiden voyage!”

“Buffy...”

“We don't even know if this is anything!”

“Well, I-I suppose it is a fairly slim lead...”

“Damn right,” muttered Buffy, shoving him out of the door as fast as she could.

So finally here she was at the Bronze, dancing with Owen. It was nice. A bit dull and prosaic— they really didn’t have that much in common, so conversation was a bit strained—but, hey, normal, right?

“May I cut in?”

And there was Spike standing beside them, looking Owen up and down disdainfully, his scarred eyebrow raised almost to his hairline. Owen flushed and stammered under that dismissive, contemptuous stare.

Buffy gave the exasperating vamp a warning glower. “Spike...”

Spike simply hooked an arm around her waist and swept her clean over to the other side of the dance floor from Owen.

“Don’t think much of your taste, pet.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed angrily.

“What are you? Geesh, Slayer! Taking up with a wimpy white mouse of a guy like that? Either of us could kill him with a little finger and pick our teeth with his bones. You can do better than that.”

“I like Owen!”

“Why?” he asked incredulously, looking at Owen hesitating on the edge of the dance floor.

“He’s nice!”

“Nice.” It was a sneer. He was scowling as he looked down at her.

“Look, it’s none of your business what I do! I just want to go out like any other girl. I just want to have a little fun. What’s wrong with that?”

“Hormones running?” he mocked. “Planning on giving it up, are you?”

The hot color shot up into her face. “How dare you!”

“Now there’s a girly comeback.” He raised a scornful eyebrow. “Giving it up is what all this leads to, innit?”

“That’s a long way down the road!”

“Is it? You’re thinking about it, Slayer. That’s what this game’s about.”

“Will you get your mind out of the gutter! What’s it to you anyway?” she snapped defensively.

He scowled. “Trying to keep you from making a really big mistake.”

“Going out with a nice boy is a mistake?”

“He’s not your match, Slayer.”

“No one’s my match! Should that keep me from having a life? I just want a normal date with a normal boy. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Oh, pet. You still don’t get it, do you? You’re a Slayer. You’re not normal. A normal boy’s only gonna get himself killed around you. Don’t you understand that you’re just setting him up as a target for any vamp who wants to get at you? Think what the Master would do to him.”

“Oh, God.” She knew he was right. “Why should you care?”

For a moment he looked oddly uncertain. “I don’t.”

“Well then, go away and leave me alone.”

“To go on with your mating dance?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous,” she flung at him angrily.

Something flickered behind his eyes. She caught her breath.

“Spike!”

“He won’t get you off, Slayer. Don’t you know that? With that Slayer strength of yours, you’d break him like a twig if you ever really got going in bed.”

She blushed furiously. “Shut up!”

“You’re special. A Slayer needs someone as powerful as she is.”

“And that’s no one! There’s no such thing as a male Slayer. What am I supposed to do? Stay pure and untouched all my life?”

His eyes went dark and heavy lidded. “Oh, I could show you the ropes, pet. Just ask me nicely.”

Her eyes widened.

God, it was tempting! She was too aware of him. He was holding her tightly to prevent her from pulling away and going back to Owen, his arms locked in the small of her back, his body hard against hers. Why did it have to be a slow dance? She was far too aware of his body rubbing against hers from breast to thigh as they swayed in place. Of the scent of him—leather and cigarettes and whiskey and something very male underneath, which was the scent of his skin itself. Of the supernatural beauty of that fallen angel face bent to hers, its laughter turned into a strange intensity. His eyes had gone half-lidded, their incandescent blue darkened to a black smolder of heat as his pupils dilated. His parted lips made her aware of the cave of his open mouth, made her remember the way that mouth had tasted, the way his tongue had felt sliding and thrusting against her own.

“You’re a vampire,” she said flatly, reminding herself exactly why this was forbidden.

“‘Aye, there’s the rub,’” he mocked. “But vamps make the best bedfellows, sweet. Not like that nancy-boy you’re trying to take up with, that puppy, barely old enough for his testes to drop. No balls. Can’t even keep another man from walking off with his date.”

“That’s unfair! Owen had to be polite.”

“Polite doesn’t belong in bed. Bed’s raw. You can do better than a silly boy doesn’t even know what to do with his willy yet. I can do better by you. No inexperienced fumbling and groping here, sweet. A hundred and twenty years of practice I’ve got.”

His hand was flat in the small of her back, pressing her tightly to him. Her breasts were flattened against his chest. He was bending her back over his arm, stomach and hips insistent against hers. His thigh pushed between hers.

“You want it,” he murmured. “I can tell.”

She did want it. And he was turned on too. She could feel that telltale hardness pressing against her belly.

“Spike, stop it! Whatever game you’re playing, just stop it right now!”

“But games are such fun.” Fingertips trailed lightly up her spine and she shivered. His mouth brushed hers, his breath shuddering against her lips. “You have no idea of the way I can make you feel.”

Perhaps not, but she was starting to guess. Her whole body felt hot, her skin burning, her bones liquid. His cheek dropped against hers, cool against her overheated skin. Then he turned his head. His tongue slid along her jaw line, licked underneath her chin. That tongue had gone raspy like a cat’s and the sensation was incredible.

“See?” he purred.

God! She was wet between her legs and shaking uncontrollably.

“Dru,” she said sharply.

It didn’t set him back the least bit.

“Not professing undying love here, pet,” he said dryly. “Just suggesting a good fuck.”

“Well, I want my first time to mean more than just a good fuck,” she snapped and shoved at him angrily.

He shrugged, smiling, and loosened his grip. “Pity. I could have initiated you proper.”

She jerked out of his arms. “That’s what you came here for? To initiate me?”

“Actually, no.” He grinned at her. “Wanted to tell you something. Got a little distracted. You’re very distracting.”

She ignored that determinedly. “So what did you want to tell me?”

“Watcher’s in trouble. He’s barricaded in Sunnydale Funeral Home with a bunch of vamps after him.”

“What!” Then she saw Willow and Xander searching for her desperately in the crowd. “Damn you, Spike!”

But he was gone, only his laughter lingering after him.


TBC