Author's Notes: Apologies for the slight delay. Remember that thing I said last chapter about real life? Yeah. It happens.

Yes, there is angst coming, but not quite yet. If you object to fun and fluff, you can skip most of this chapter. ;)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode "I Was Made To Love You" written by Jane Espenson.

Betaed by Phuriedae

Banner by Phuriedae

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Chapter 25

Slipping

Porter dorm, as usual, is decked out for parties for pretty much any occasion. Tonight they've put up a bounce house and a Slip'n'Slide outside—which probably makes sense if you’re very, very drunk. The first is full of brave girls wearing short dresses, the second is being used by some very stupid guys wearing … well… swim trunks and t-shirts, and they're sliding down the ice-slicked plastic into a hockey net. On one corner of the lawn is a table with snowman building supplies, and there seems to be some kind of contest brewing. Another corner has a temporarily erected series of barriers, and more than a few people are engaging in an all out snowball fight. There are big, portable heater thingies all over the place, but the amount of heat they cast isn't enough to beat out the chill in the air, so we join the rest of the intelligent people partying inside.

"Snow BLOWS!" yells a frat boy as he bolts out the door past us, dressed in nothing but his boxers and a pair of running shoes.

"And to think," Xander says, "I missed out on all this fun by choosing to enter the workforce."

"That's okay," I tell him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You can live vicariously through us."

"Does that mean you'll be stripping down to your underwear and frolicking in the snow?" he asks hopefully.

"No," I tell him.

"Damn," he says. "You never vicariously let me have any fun."

I'm glad I didn't go crazy trying to find something cute to wear, because the snow theme has been brought indoors, too. Most people haven't even bothered to take off their coats and gloves, not even the dancers. Willow drags Tara onto the dance floor, while Xander, Anya and I wander off to locate the food.

Along the way we bump into that Eric guy from my class, but he's already so wasted all he can say is "Buppy!" before he trips over his own feet and face plants into some girl's lap. He seems happy, so I leave him there. I really do get the winners, don't I?

"You wanna dance?" Xander asks me after a brief whispered conversation with Anya.

"Nah," I say, hating that I’m the charity case. Worse, hating that I’m Anya’s charity case. "I'm good for now. Maybe later, though?" He nods and turns to discuss the complex process of making chex-mix with Anya.

There's a commotion over by the door and a girl walks in, dressed in a cute spring dress and sandals. She approaches the first group she passes, but she's too far away for me to hear the conversation. There's something weird about her, aside from her totally unseasonable clothing—but then there's people out in the bounce house dressed in much less.

Suddenly I'm feeling vamp tingles. The girl? No… these are closer, and familiar.

"Spike," I say, turning around. He's leaning against the column next to me, also watching the girl that just came in, a frown on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Free country, innit? Free party," he says, snatching a beer out of a drunk guy's hand as he passes. The guy doesn't seem to notice. Spike takes a long swig, and I find myself staring at the muscles in his throat as he drinks. No. Bad Buffy. "You want me to leave, Slayer? You can put your hands on my hot, tight little body and make me," he teases with a grin. Ugh. And I'm so not going to think about Spike's tight little… anything.

"Room temperature, at best," I tell him, wrinkling my nose.

"Lighten up, Summers," he says, that teasing glint still in his eye. "Have some fun. If you're nice I'll let you throw snowballs at me."

"Make it bowling balls and you've got yourself a deal," I say as sweetly as I can manage.

"What's this about Spike and balls?" Anya asks, bringing Xander and the others over. Both Spike and I cough, me on air, and him half choking on his beer.

"Bowling!" I say. "We were talking about bowling."

"Yeah," he says, with a smirk. "And someone's mind is in the gutter."

"What's Fang-face doing here?" Xander asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Staying where I can keep an eye on him and make sure he's not getting into any trouble," I say, shooting Spike a warning glance.

He just shrugs. "Heard there was free beer," he says.

"From who? Mr. Alpert in plot forty-three?" Xander asks, incredulous.

"No, from the perky bint in the mini skirt and snow boots who was handing out fliers downtown," he says, fishing a neon pink piece of paper out of his duster pocket.

Xander shakes his head. "Some places just have no standards. They'll let anything in the door."

"Excuse me," says a new voice. "Have you seen my boyfriend? His name is Warren."

It's the girl from a few minutes ago. She's got the weirdest, brightest smile I've ever seen, and the boys—and Willow and Tara—all seem riveted. "Uh, no. I don't think we know anyone named Warren," I say. "You guys?"

Various no responses from the others. The girl just shrugs. "That's okay. Thank you."

"Who might you be, darlin'?" Spike asks her, still with that strange considering look on his face.

"I'm April," she says. "Warren's my boyfriend. He lost me. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Want some advice, pet?" She nods and he leans in and murmurs something in her ear.

Suddenly the smile is gone.

"Oh!" she says, her eyes going huge. Stupid vam—!

"Oi! Hey! Put me down!" Spike yells as April hoists him up over her head. Which, on the one hand is probably a sign that she’s not human, but…

It’s also the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages: Spike with his arms pin wheeling and his eyes all big, flopping around in her grip like a big… flailing, black leather… thing.

I wonder if it looks that funny when I do it?

“Put me DOWN!”

"That is not true!" April tells him. Then she puts him down.

Actually… she tosses him through the nearest window.

Glass shatters everywhere and people duck and cover. Spike goes rolling through the bushes, crashing around like a big bleached goon. When he finally gets to his feet he’s clearly confused and pissed off. Which just makes it even funnier.

"Bloody hell! You threw me through a window!" he says, staring at her as if she’s insane. "What is wrong with you bloody women?"

"You're wrong," she says, her hands on her hips. "Warren loves me. He's my boyfriend."

"Well my bleedin' sympathies to Warren," Spike says and stalks off.

Okay, as funny as that was, I probably need to stop giggling and do something about our potential problem. Xander nudges me forward, but I was on my way in any case.

"Hi," I say, approaching April. "Excuse me? Hi. Um… maybe you and I could talk? You know, cause throwing Spike through a window… well, that's really good, but generally speaking—"

"Do you know my boyfriend?" she asks me, that weirdo grin back on her face.

"Okay, I think you need to take a second and stop looking for your boyfriend," I say. The grin doesn't disappear this time. Instead she just grabs my arm and flings me backward into a wall.

Ow. Okay, something is totally wrong with this girl. I've got a good idea what it is, too.

"I have to find him," April tells me. She comes over to stand beside me, looking down. "If I hurt you just now, I'm sorry. And I hope that your boyfriend takes good care of you." She leaves before I manage to get up.

We follow her, but she's disappeared into the crowd outside around the Slip'n'Slide. Inside, we manage to find a mostly deserted student lounge. My arm still hurts.

"You alright?" Spike says, leaning in the doorway. He nods at my arm.

"You're back?" I say. You’d think getting tossed through a window would have been his clue that he’s not wanted.

"And we thought he was a goner," Xander says dryly.

"What can I say? Just couldn't stay away, mate," Spike snarks. There are tiny little already healing cuts all over his face and hands from the window glass.

"Whatever," I say, rubbing my arm. He watches me, his eyes not missing anything. Stupid vampire. "Can we get back to the problem of the tiny, super strong girl who is not me?"

"At least she didn't do too much damage," Tara says.

"Are you kidding?" Xander says. "Double-glazed windows ain't cheap. And the jamb is going to need to be completely repaired… and… oh dear god; I'm the grown up who sees everything through my job. I'm like my Uncle Dave the plumber. I must be shunned."

"Not a problem here," Spike mutters.

"So what do you guys think she is?" I ask, trying to move things back on topic. "I mean, this may sound nuts but I kinda got the impression that she was a—"

"Robot," Tara says.

Everybody nods.

"Yeah, I was gonna say robot," I admit.

"Bloody good one, too," Spike says. "Got a heartbeat and everything. Breathin's off, though."

"Really?" Willow says. "A heartbeat?"

"Yeah, but might just be a recording. No blood vessels, so no pulse," Spike says.

"I wonder how you'd do that?" Willow says thoughtfully, and I can see the computer gears cranking in her head. Do computers have gears?

"Why would you do that?" Xander wants to know.

"What do you think she wants?" I ask.

"Warren," Tara says. "Whoever that is."

"It's gotta be the guy that built her," Xander points out.

Willow looks thoughtful. "It's an unusual name. There's hardly any except… Warren Beatty and President Harding. It-it's probably not either of them."

"Warren DeMartini," Spike says. We all give him a look. "Musician. Ratt? Round and Round? Wanted Man? … Never mind. Isn't him either. Bloody children…"

I roll my eyes. "Will, can you track down this guy with only a first name?"

She nods. "Given enough time. I can get a list of the Sunnydale students named Warren tonight, but… then we'll have to call on them or go to their dorms so we probably can't start narrowing it down ‘til tomorrow."

"She could do a lot of damage by then," Anya says, looking worried.

"To who?" Xander asks. "Spike? See how vigorously I don't care." Spike shoots him a dirty look. "She was looking for Warren, but it didn't sound like she wanted to hurt him. She said he's her boyfriend."

"I agree," Willow says. "I'm not sure this is a code red. Hey, is there a code pink? We need more codes." Tara smiles at her.

"Okay, so… we'll track down Warren tomorrow. In the meantime, I think I'm done partying for tonight."

The others all yawn or nod and we decide to give up on the fun and head home.

***

It's not ‘til I split off from Xander and Anya that I realize Spike is still there, trailing behind us, out of sight but in range. "Why are you following me?" I ask, turning to look at him. He steps out of the shadows, then glances up at the sky. There are some clouds, but it's not like it was last night.

"Just… thought it'd be a good idea, is all," he says, stepping closer until he's only a couple of feet away. "Arm still hurting?"

"She just sprained it, I think," I tell him, frowning. "No big. It's almost gone."

"Right," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look… thought you should know, Dru left town. Word is she picked up some demon down at the pub last night and he gave her a ride back to LA."

"You're sure?" I ask. Drusilla being gone is one less thing I have to deal with. Best news I’ve had all week.

"Yeah," he says, looking me straight in the eye. Spike is such a bad liar that it's usually pretty obvious when he's telling the truth.

"Okay," I say. "Good to know." For a moment we just stand there, watching each other carefully. I know I should go, but… something keeps me there.

"Buffy…” he starts to say, then stops, looking conflicted. After a moment he sighs, pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one, then motions for us to keep walking. It’s cold so… This is totally just about distracting myself. He falls in on my left. "So, it's robots now, is it?"

"It's the Hellmouth. It's always something," I remind him. Okay, so maybe it’s also a little about trying to figure out Spike. "What did you say to piss her off?"

"Nothing!" He looks defensive. I just raise my eyebrows. I know he said something evil. Spike sulks. "What? Wasn't anything. Nothing worth getting defenestrated for, anyway."

"Defene-what?"

He rolls his eyes. "Means 'getting tossed through a bloody window', pet."

Oh. Huh. I kinda like that. I think about the expression on his face when she picked him up, and suddenly I'm giggling.

"What?" he asks, suspiciously.

I imitate it. "'Oi! Hey! Put me down!' Your face… There's a memory I never want to forget."

"Laugh it up, Slayer," he says, but he smirks, totally ruining his grump. After a minute he looks up. "You're patrolling?" he asks, a little surprised when he sees we're heading into Shady Oaks.

I shrug. "Might as well. It's not snowing, and Mom's out on a date for another hour or two."

"Your mum's got a date?" he grins.

"It's not funny," I tell him.

"No, it's bloody adorable. Good for her," he smiles, a real genuine smile with no malice or … badness behind it. It makes him look boyish, and handsome, and I can't decide if I like it or if I want to punch him and make it go away.

"You really like her," I say, stopping to stare at him. He gives me an incredulous sort of look, then takes a puff on his cigarette.

"Well, yeah," he says. "Real nice lady, your mum. Classy. Only one of your lot that treats me decent."

"You're a vampire, Spike," I point out.

"Yeah, so?" He leans back against a nearby headstone. "Doesn't mean I don't appreciate being treated like a person every now and then. I've got feelings, you know." I roll my eyes.

"Right. Feelings. Anger. Hatred. Greed. A burning desire to kill people and destroy things."

"You really believe that rot, Slayer?" he asks quietly, taking a long drag on his cigarette. I shrug. Maybe I’m starting to think I don't, but I don't need to tell him that. He snorts, a stream of smoke coming out of his nose. "Fine then. Think what you like, but you're wrong, and someday you're gonna have to admit it. I just hope I'm there when you do."

He stubs out his cigarette, then gets up and mockingly gestures for me to continue on patrol. Stupid vampire.

"Do you do this on purpose?" I ask as he falls in beside me. "Every time I think I understand you, you … do something to turn everything on its head. I mean, you promise to kill me, then you make a truce with me. You promise to leave town, then you come back. You tear me down, then come to me for help. You mock my love life, then… then show me what Riley was doing behind my back. You try to get the chip out, then you're… saving my life and promising to be good. I swear, you're the most contradictory vampire ever."

"Least I'm never disappointing," he says.

And before I know what he's about to do, he grabs the back of my coat collar and pulls it away from my neck, then dumps a handful of cold snow down my back.

"Hey!" I whirl on him, shivering and trying to shake the snow out. "What was that for?"

He just grins and curls his tongue behind his teeth. "What can I say, pet? I'm unpredictable." Ugh. Infuriating jerk. Before I know it I'm scooping up a handful of snow, packing it into a loose ball and tossing it in his face. I'm fast, but he's faster and dodges out of the way. "Oh, come on, Summers. You can do better than that."

"Oh, I will," I promise, and dive for another handful just as he darts back further amid the gravestones.

"Keep up, Slayer!" he calls, and a loose handful of snow hits me right in the face. Too loose to hurt, but cold enough to leave me sputtering. Oh, that's it. It's on now.

We dart between the headstones, using them for cover as we pelt each other. Mine tend to be nicely packed snowballs that, when they hit, explode against his leather coat. His aren't so cohesive, sometimes falling apart before impact. But when they do, they spatter, leaving me coated in a fine dust. I can't tell if he's deliberately packing them loose to keep from setting off his chip, or if he's just crappy at making snowballs. It isn't until I'm working on my seventh one, listening to him taunt me from behind a sarcophagus that I realize he's at a disadvantage… no body heat to melt the snow a little into a solid ball.

Huh. Good to know.

I lose track of how long we draw out our battle. He's slightly faster than I am, and his longer legs let him break through the drifts easier than me. But I'm lighter and can run across the crust fast enough that I don't step through it, if I try. I can also track him with my Slayer sense, and I'm sure he's following me by the sound of my breathing and heartbeat. It makes the game more even, and before I know it, I'm laughing at his taunts and breathless from exertion and … having way more fun than I really ought to be.

This is the first time that all this snow has been a good thing, and I'm reluctant to stop. I haven't had a decent fight in weeks, and battling with Spike, even if it is only with snowballs, is always challenging. When a fledge bursts out of a nearby grave we barely even pause to dust him, then resume the fight.

My cheeks are flushed and my nose and fingers numb, when I finally sneak up behind him, pouncing and pushing him down into a drift. He spins as he falls, catching me around the waist and yanking me down with him just as I smush a handful of snow into his laughing face. We roll for a minute, then come to a halt, both of us giggling and shaking snow out of our eyes.

Then I realize how we landed. He's on top of me, straddling my hips, his duster half caught beneath me and pinning him there. His hands are fisted and planted in the drift on either side of my head, and his face… his face is only a few inches from mine. Snowflakes are caught in his heavy eyelashes and eyebrows, and he's still grinning as he shakes his head like a dog, showering me with more flakes. The moonlight turns his skin and hair to the same blue white as the snow, and for a moment it's hard to remember that he's the enemy because he's… he's… kinda almost beautiful.

No. Not beautiful. That's wrong. Bad Buffy.

Only now he's sobered and is staring down at me, his expression soft and curious and intense all at once. For too long we stay that way, his eyes dark and unreadable as he stares into mine.

Enemy, vampire, Spike, I tell myself sternly. But I don't move.

His lashes dip as his gaze falls to my mouth, and I realize that I've parted my lips slightly and I'm breathing funny. Spike glances back up at me, through those snow fringed lashes, and there's something in his eyes now that makes me nervous and excited and… I can't help but shiver, knowing that he's about to kiss me and I should push him off.

I should.

Right now.

I'm going to.

Only I don't have to, because now he's frowning, the weirdest look of concern on his face. "You're cold," he murmurs. "I forget… C'mon, luv." He rolls off me, pulling his coat out from under me then reaching for my hands to help me stand.

I am not going to think about how weirdly bereft I feel without him on top of me. I'm not.

Maybe that robot girl threw me against the wall a little too hard, because clearly my brains are rattled. Or maybe somewhere along the way we slipped into some Bizzaro Universe. There's no way I should have let Spike that close, and it's totally unfair that he's the one who broke the … the… whatever that was. If either of us was going to break that, it totally should have been me. Preferably with a punch to his stupid nose. I frown, suddenly irritated and frustrated way out of proportion to what happened.

"Let's get you home and warmed up, Summers," he says, tugging me toward the cemetery exit.

"I can walk just fine on my own," I snap. He raises his eyebrows and releases my hand, scowling.

"I was just—," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"What the hell was that?"

"What?" he says, getting mad.

"That! That! With the… with the-the pouncing! And the pinning and the… what the hell was that?"

He glowers at me. "Correct me if I'm wrong—which I'm not, but you probably think I am anyway—but weren't you the one doing the pouncing, pet?"

"That's not the point," I tell him. "What was that, Spike?"

"It was fun!" he exclaims, flinging out his arms and losing his temper. "Running, and fighting, and … dodging blows. No harm done. It was bloody fun, and you were right there with me, Summers. Don't even try to deny it. You don't have enough fun, and you're gonna shrivel up and die a prune because of it. So forgive me for trying to interject a little levity into your oh-so-serious life, Slayer."

He steps right into my space, breathing hard, his eyes narrowed.

There he is. There's Spike the vampire, pissed off and furious and ready to burst into fangs. My hands ball into fists, ready to punch him if he even tries to lunge at me. But instead he just stands there, nostrils flaring and jaw muscles popping in his hollow cheeks as he fights for control.

"Clearly," he growls finally, "I made a mistake. See, here I thought we were having a gay old time of it. But as usual, you had to go and cock it up. Can't trust old Spike, of course. He's got to have an ulterior motive. Probably lured you out here into a graveyard just so he could … what, Slayer? Pelt you to death with bloody snowballs? Hope you got so frostbit your nose falls off? Or, worse… maybe," he says, stepping closer, and his voice dropping lower. "Maybe you thought I was trying to seduce you? Catch you off guard, yeah? Dazzle you with the moonlight and the snow and the fun until you were all warm and laughing under me?"

His voice is a low rumble, deep in his throat, and his proximity is making my Slayer sense go crazy. He's so close I can feel his cool breath on my face and I know that he's right. He did catch me off guard. I'm teetering, trying hard to find my balance.

"Then I could swoop in and do what you've been practically begging me to do since you jumped me back there. I… could do… this…"

He leans in, closer, and I just know he's going to try to kiss me. I lift my chin and glare, balling my hands into fists. Let him try. He's so close, only a breath away now. Maybe I'll let him, just for a second, before I punch him.

Only when the cold comes, it's not his lips.

It's a face full of snow.

I shake it off, shocked and sputtering. He rocks back on his heels, grinning at me and running a tongue over his teeth. "Gotcha, Slayer," he says with a smirk.

"Spike," I say, gritting my teeth. "You are so dead."

"Already there, luv," he says. "Now c'mon, let's get you home before your nose does fall off. You'd look awfully silly with no nose, Summers."

Ugh. Stupid, annoying, evil vampire.

***

He ditches me across the street from my house with his usual mocking salute, and I stand and glare after him until he's out of sight. I don't know who I'm madder at: me, for letting myself have fun with Spike or for thinking for even an instant about him kissing me, or him for messing with my head in the first place. Why can't he just be a normal vampire?

I'm still shaking my head with frustration when I step in the house. My mom is practically floating as she comes in from the kitchen.

"Want to hear all about everything?" she asks with a grin that's almost infectious.

"Sure," I say. "Let me just go change into something less likely to melt on the floor."

A few minutes later I'm in my comfiest, warmest pj's and sitting at the island in the kitchen drinking hot chocolate and listening to mom tell me all about her date.

"It sounds like you had an amazing time," I tell her with a smile when she's finished.

"Oh, I did," she says with a grin. "How did your party go?"

"I got to watch Spike get tossed through a window," I tell her. "But after that, not so good. We've got a robot problem again. Not a homicidal one, though. I hope."

"Was that Spike that walked home with you?" she asks, eying me over the rim of her hot chocolate. I make a face.

"Yes," I grouch. "He likes to follow me on patrol and annoy me. Tonight he started a snowball fight."

"That sounds… fun," she says cautiously.

"It was… kinda," I say. Cause it was. Right up until the almost kissage that thankfully wasn't. "He likes you, you know." I tell her, trying to change the subject. Mom just blinks at me.

"He said that?"

"Yeah. Something about you being classy and… treating him decent," I say.

"Well, he seems like a nice boy," she says.

"Mom, he's a vampire. Vampires are not nice. He's… soulless, and evil, and…icky. And so not a boy. He's over a hundred years old, almost as old as Angel." Okay, so that might be stretching it, but what’s a hundred years, give or take a few decades, right? Once you’re over that centennial mark I think you pretty much qualify as an antique.

She looks thoughtful. "But Angel always seemed old. Spike…He's boyish, which I guess brings out the mother in me. And you say he can't hurt anybody anymore, and he's certainly gone out of his way to protect the both of us. I may not know him as well as you do, but from what I've seen, he doesn't seem particularly evil."

"Do you like him?" I ask, not sure if I should be weirded out or what.

She watches me for a moment. "In a way, yes, I do. I think a better question to ask, however, is: do you?"

I scowl at my hot chocolate, wishing the answer to that question was as simple as I want it to be.

***

I'm still feeling a little grumpy when I go to bed, and when Mr. Gordo arrives I'm too tired to spar. He taps three times, and I know he probably wants to know what's wrong, but… for the first time I don't really want to talk about it with him. I don't even know how to put it into words myself. It's too confusing. On the one hand, I know Giles is right, and trusting Spike is a bad idea. On the other hand…

"I'm just tired," I tell Mr. Gordo. "It's been a long day."

He's still for a while, probably watching me, and I can't help but think about Spike and the way he tilts his head and narrows his eyes when he's trying to figure something out. I shake my head, trying to dislodge it, but there it is.

Frustrated, I pull my pillow over my head to shut out the image.

In the dark, of course, it really doesn't help.

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