John tapped his fingers on the railing in the elevator and tried to stay calm. As busy as his day had been, the thought of seeing Buffy again had been on his mind. The worst part of his day had been enduring the birthday party at Begins the Mystery Literary Agency. He might be a writer, but he just didn’t seem to mix well with the others, and he’d spent the entire time by himself in the corner. Gage had tried to get him to mix more, but John didn’t see the point of bragging with the other writers and he held his plots and ideas close. He didn’t like to share, and he really didn’t trust the other authors not to steal his ideas. If they wanted to know what he was writing, they could pick up one of his books when they were published. So, he’d stood by the buffet table driving himself crazy, thinking about what he would say to Buffy when he saw her again, knowing full well that once he was in her presence again, he’d turn into a bumbling fool and all his well planned words would be for naught.

He was hoping that he’d be able to relax once they were at the beach party, as he felt at home around the surfer crowd. It didn’t matter what a person did for a living. Age wasn’t a factor either. If they rode a board, there was always room for them. Unless, of course, they came on the scene and hogged the waves and disrespected the locals. Then they might just find themselves run out of town, sporting a nice black eye or worse. He smirked as he thought of one particular idiot that he had the pleasure helping to escort out of town. There was something safe about the simple rules.

The elevator pinged, the door opened and John took short quick steps to the door marked 10-G. He raised a fist to knock and then let his nerves get the better of him. Putting his back to the door, he inwardly berated himself. He’d dated in the last two years, since he’d awoken with no memories of his past. Some of the women were hot, just like Buffy. Some of them made him slightly nervous, but he was able to push past the nerves. This girl seemed more important. He didn’t know if it was because she looked like a character that he thought only existed in his dreams, but his slightly damp palms and his racing heart proved that this one was different from all the rest.

He spun around and knocked before he lost his nerve again. Instantly, the door opened and his heart nearly dropped to his stomach. He wondered how many bathing suits the girl owned. Tonight, she had on a green and white one piece with a matching knee length wrap around skirt. Even the woman’s coral painted toes were sexy, peeking out of white, open toe sandals.

“You look lovely,” he told her.

“Thank you.” Her hazel eyes softened with her warm smile as she stepped back. “Come in. Let me get my sweater and we can go.”

Once they were in his car, Buffy said, “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t been to a party since I was in college.”

“Oh?” He glanced at her as he merged into the traffic on Catalina Avenue. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Twenty-five, but it’s been a few years since I was in college. Didn’t get to finish.”

Her matter of fact tone made him like her even more. He was tired of people who moaned and groaned about the curves life could suddenly take. That’s what made life worth living. To keep her talking, he asked, “So what made you quit school?”

After a deep sigh she said, “Had to take care of my sister when my mom passed away, and then my career sort of took off on me and there was never time to go back.”

“I’m intrigued. What is it that you do?”

John applied the brake for a red light and decided that he even liked her profile as she bit her lip, seeming to think about her answer.

“International Security stuff,” she mumbled then quickly asked, “So what about you? I know you’re an author, but how old are you?”

Keeping his eye on the road once the light turned green, John let it register that she was too quick with the changing of subjects. The possibility that she might have something to hide was more of an attraction than a turn off for him.

“Not sure, really.” He turned left into the beach parking lot and felt her eyes on him. “If you read the bio on the back of my book, you know that I have no idea who I was before May of 2004.” He glanced her way to see her nod. “They gave me the birth date of May twenty-first, since that is the day they discovered me unconscious in an alley. They guessed that I was between twenty-five and thirty years old. I chose twenty-five, so for record’s sake, I’m twenty-seven now, but I could be older.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to have no memories of the past,” Buffy said softly.

“It wasn’t easy at first. I think I was more upset that no one recognized me, but it was a very turbulent time in L.A. when it happened. Then I was assigned to my therapist, who happens to be a beach bum in his spare time. He believes in a bunch of holistic mumbo jumbo and got me enrolled in surf therapy.” He chuckled. “I was skeptical at first, but the whole lifestyle was liberating.”

John got out and ran around the back of the car to open her door for her. She thanked him and they strolled in silence towards the bright bonfire and the hopping party already in progress. He steered her toward the house behind the bonfire where a stream of people were going back and forth and heavy metal music blasted out from the windows.

“Would you like a beer? I’m sure they’re well stocked.”

“Um, alcohol and me are unmixy things, but water, juice or soda would be good.”

“You don’t know how stoked I am to hear you say that. So many of these girls are too much into the party scene. It’s a shame.” He leaned in closer to her and said, “I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not a heavy drinker, myself.”

Buffy stopped all of the sudden and just stared at him. “You aren’t a big drinker?”

He shrugged. “I drink socially and I have a beer or two a day, but I don’t drink to get snot roaring drunk.”

She started walking towards the house again, stealing confused glances at him, but he shrugged it off. He had no idea whose house it was, but John led Buffy through the maze of partygoers and into the kitchen. He handed her a water bottle from the refrigerator and took one for himself. They agreed to go back outside after they attempted to shout at each other in the house a few times and could only hear Van Halen wailing in the background.

The offshore breeze really cooled the beach off after sundown. Buffy stopped just outside the house to pull her sweater on over her head and then let John lead her across the sand to the roaring bonfire.

“Johnny! Dude!” A tall, weathered looking man with long stringy black hair clasped John in a fist-pounding bear hug before letting him go. “Good to see you, man. What the hell have you been up to, besides putting all those words together—and who’s your luscious friend?”

“Uh, this is Buffy. She’s a tourist, here for the summer. Buffy, this is Wally, my former surf instructor.”

So this was one of the people who helped Spike when he was down and out and newly human. She liked the man already. “Nice to meet you.”

John dragged an empty ice chest over for them to sit down on together and Buffy glanced around, taking the scene in. Conversation flowed back and forth all around her, just like the booze, but the sound of the waves crashing muffled all but the closest voices. Wally smiled at her, his white teeth glowing in the fire light.

“So, Buffy, do you surf?”

“No. I just admire those who do.” Or one in particular. She didn’t even try to hide the appreciative look she gave Spike, who she could swear was now blushing.

“Well, if you ever want to learn, come see me. Johnny here can barely stay up on his board. All you’d learn from him is the art of wiping out.”

“Well then, I don’t think I should come see you. You were his teacher, right?” Buffy said.

Laughter erupted all around her as someone slapped Wally on the back. John was grinning from ear to ear and it was contagious.

“Ooh, I like you,” Spike said.

And it was Spike. They might call him John now, but Spike was not dead. And those four words, spoken in that tone and lilt had her feeling faint. To distract herself from her thoughts she jumped to her feet. “I feel like taking a walk. Wanna come with me?” she asked as she took off her sandals.

John stood and they said goodbye to Wally and his friends. They didn’t get more than twenty feet before a man came stumbling towards them, a half empty bottle of hard liquor in his hand. “Hey, John,” the guy managed to say, slurring his words.

Void of amusement, John sneered. “Corky. It’s just past ten and you’re already drunk off your arse?”

Corky looked over his shoulder and nodded his head in the direction of three girls in bikinis, laughing like hyenas and heading their way. “I don’t know how you lasted a whole three months with that bitch.”

“She turn you down?” John asked.

“Yep. And now I’m gonna find me something better.”

Buffy turned slightly and watched Corky walk towards the bonfire. “You’ve got some interesting friends.”

“He’s not my—oh, balls, she’s spotted me.”

“Who?” Buffy strained to get a better look at the girls, now heading towards them with purpose.

“Misty. The redhead with all the bouncy curls in the green suit,” he said, sounding sick to his stomach.

The redhead was drop dead gorgeous--even with the frown on her face--and perfectly shaped. Buffy hated her instantly.

“Listen,” John said in a rush of words. “I know we just met and all, but could you do me a big favor? Would you please lead her to believe that we are an item?”

Without even looking at him, Buffy reached out and grabbed his hand.

Just before the three girls reached them, he leaned in to whisper close in her ear, “I owe you one.”

His hot breath on her neck put pleasant goose bumps over her flesh, but she didn’t have time to savor the moment.

He pulled her a little closer as Misty stopped in front of them, still glaring, but now she put a hand on her hip. “How come you haven’t been returning my calls?”

John shrugged. “Been busy.”

“And who’s this?” Misty said with derision, pointing at Buffy.

“This is my new friend, Buffy.”

Both of Misty’s friends stared at her with murder in their eyes.

“I can’t believe you!” Misty said as her two friends shook their heads.

John puffed up in his own indignation and practically growled. “We broke it off three weeks ago, Misty. You really need to get over it.”

Buffy cringed at his direct words and remembered all the times she rejected Spike in the past. John tugged on Buffy’s hand and led them further away from the bonfire and away from Misty and friends. She almost felt sorry for the redhead, who watched them walk away with naked longing.

“I can’t believe his nerve!” one of the girls said, loud enough for everyone near to hear. “Bringing some other girl around like that.”

“How come you didn’t tell us that you guys broke up?” the other girl asked Misty.

As they walked out of earshot, Buffy didn’t get to hear her explanation. Buffy and John didn’t stop until they were half way between the pier and the bonfire and only let go of each other’s hand when they sat down, just where the water came up to their feet.

“Isn’t Misty a little young for you? She can’t be more than eighteen.”

“She’s twenty.”

He leaned back on his elbows and she stared at him, admiring the way the wind swept his hair back.

“Sometimes,” he added, smiling softly, “I doubt my taste in women, but then I meet a girl like you and my faith in myself is restored.”

He went on to tell her how Misty had only been interested in him because of his success as a writer. She was the Queen Bee of the area and she took great pleasure in holding court over her subjects. But John could only take her for about two months, then spent a third month trying to tactfully break it off with her, only to have to get mean and ugly with her three weeks ago.

“It’s really sad that she can’t take a hint,” Buffy said.

“What’s worse is she couldn’t take it when I spelled it out for her either.” He smiled at Buffy. “But you’ve come to my rescue and hopefully her pride will keep her away now.”

They stared off at the ocean in silence for a little while, their bare toes touching every now and again, until Buffy broke the silence.

“It’s amazing how different the beach looks in the daytime.”

“Yes, it is. I prefer it in the daylight, but sometimes it’s nice to take it in, in the dark.”

“Especially when sharing it with good company.” Buffy agreed with a nod.

She grinned when he glanced down and drew circles in the sand. Buffy couldn’t believe that she was sitting with Spike after thinking that she’d never see him again. Their quiet comfortable togetherness reminded her of those last days on the hellmouth together, only this time there was no impending danger. And it was nice.

John took her home at midnight, walking her to her door. He’d put her hand in both of his and gently caressed it, telling her that he hoped to see her tomorrow down at the beach. When she said she’d be there, he promised to save her a spot next to him.

Buffy closed the door, leaned against it and squeezed her eyes shut. She was falling for him, the human him that he was now. She’d seen glimpses of the Spike she had come to love a few years ago and she’d seen some new things about him that she equally liked.

There were so many ways she could handle all this, including confessing that she was someone from his past that knew who he was. She could not tell him and let things progress, but then how would she break it to him that she was a slayer? And if she told him about vampires, would that jar his memory and freak him out that he had once been one?

She didn’t know a lot and no matter how long she stayed awake, staring at the ceiling in her bedroom, she didn’t come up with a solution for how to handle the situation.

But she did know one thing. Come morning, she was going to park her blanket next to his in the sand and spend more time with him.