Anya stared at the wieners cooking on the small grill before wrinkling her nose. “I don’t like hot dogs.”

“What?” Xander responded in shock. “Who doesn’t like hot dogs?”

“Me,” she replied, lying back on the beach towel they were sharing. “It’s a texture thing.”

Tara paused while braiding Willow’s hair to exchange a grin with her girlfriend.

“So I guess you’re having a burger, then?” Riley asked, pulling the wrapped meat out of the cooler.

“Yup,” Anya answered, placing her sunglasses on her eyes.

“What about you, Buffy?” Riley asked, looking over at his girlfriend, who was lying on her stomach across from him. “Hot dog or burger?”

Buffy shrugged before placing her head back on her folded arms. “I’m not really hungry.”

“C’mon, Buff,” said Xander. “You’ve got to keep your slayer strength up. What better way to do that than with a sturdy American burger made by a sturdy American boy?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Riley frowned as he placed the rest of the meat on the grill, casting uneasy looks in Buffy’s direction. She’d acted sullen ever since they arrived at the beach, which didn’t add up. Buffy loved the beach.

After the others finished their hot dogs and/or burgers (Riley and Xander took large helpings of both), Willow and Tara went to play in the surf and look for seashells. The others stayed behind; Buffy and Anya tanning on their beach towels, while Riley and Xander talked about sports and other manly things.

Xander soon broke away to join Anya, leaving Riley alone, or at least feeling like he was. He moved over to where Buffy was lying and gently rubbed her back.

“You put any sunscreen on yet?”

Buffy shook her head. “I like to get a good burn before the tan sets in.”

Riley smiled a little and shook his head, reaching for the suntan lotion in Anya’s bag. “That’s how people get skin cancer. Would you like me to put some on for you?”

She lifted her head and regarded him for a moment, but with her sunglasses on, Riley couldn’t read her expression.

“Sure,” she replied. “I’d like that.”

Riley smiled as she laid her head back down and popped the bottle open, squeezing some of the white lotion onto his left hand. He stared at the black bikini strap that tied across her back for a moment, wondering if he should untie it. He tentatively placed his fingers on it, and when she didn’t flinch, he undid the knot and laid the strings aside.

Buffy twitched when he started spreading the lotion across her back.

“You okay?” Riley asked.

“‘S cold,” she mumbled.

Riley continued to rub the lotion in, from her shoulders and her neck down to the lowest part of her that wasn’t covered by the bikini. She relaxed under his hands for a while, and he’d thought she’d fallen asleep, but when he was almost finished she tensed and he heard her sniffling.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she replied, sniffling again. “I just… I got some sand in my eye.”

Riley retied the knot on her back and then settled back beside her, staring glumly at Tara and Willow as they splashed each other playfully in the water. He turned to see Xander sitting comfortably beside Anya, one of his hands lazily stroking her hair.

And then there was Buffy, crying for some unknown reason while he sat there clueless.

* * * *

This bit was getting old.

Tonight was another night spent at Dave’s, one of the few demon bars in town. The unlucky humans who mistook it for a normal bar usually got eaten, but Spike wasn’t going to try his luck on snacking.

The night after his run-in with Buffy and her oversized appendage, Spike had gone out and tried his bit at attacking someone. He’d planned on killing whoever he got his hands on, but changed his mind once he had a girl cornered. She’d cried a little, which pleased him at first, but it started to bother him when she wouldn’t stop. He was only going to take a little bite–it wasn’t like he was going to kill her. But he didn’t bite her.

He couldn’t.

So he tried it again the next night, thinking the chip must’ve gone wonky—a farewell zap, if you will—but it worked then, too. The pain seemed worse than before, but that was probably his imagination.

Maybe when he’d hurt Buffy he hadn’t really hurt her. It had been such a little scratch. Maybe it didn’t go off because it was an accident?

Spike didn’t know what to believe. He hadn’t seen Buffy in over a week and wasn’t in the mood to seek her out, not now that she had her own personal G.I. Joe following her around.

What did she see in that wanker, anyway? He’d never understood it. Not even before he fell in love with her.

Spike downed another shot.

Was it because he was tall? Angel hadn’t been much taller than Camo-Boy. Maybe it was the pulse. Something about blood pumping through her boy must turn her on, but then again she’d been awfully hot and wild over him last week.

Spike downed another shot.

She did seem to have a kink for vamps though, didn’t she? First Angel, now him. Spike wondered who was better. He’d always been curious. He’d sucked his pride up and asked Dru once, but she’d told him off for bringing up such naughty things in front of her dollies. He hadn’t brought the subject up again since.

So he just assumed he was better. He was sure of it now, seeing as the poofter would’ve lost his soul had he had any practice these past hundred years.

Wanker. They were all wankers.

That line became his mantra as he downed shot after shot, but something entered his drunken brain that night. Why was he wasting his time getting pissed over the Slayer? He should go back to what he was before.

Which was a lazy, drunken excuse for a vampire. He’d had a better share of violence before falling in love with Buffy, though.

Spike snorted. He’d had even more before he’d ever met her.

What he needed to do was get her out of his system, and what better way than by washing her out? He could find another warm-bodied chit to take her place. It’s not like he hadn’t had a human woman in his bed before. Although, it had been awhile… and he was a bit sloppy after the unhealthy amount of drinking he’d just undergone.

Eh, he was irresistible. He could get any bird he wanted, even if his eyes weren’t quite focused.

It was that self-assured thought that made him question why he decided to go back to his crypt to watch TV instead.

* * * *


The drive back to Sunnydale had been prolonged due to an accident on the freeway. Riley, Xander and Anya continually griped at each other about the routes they should’ve taken to avoid the traffic buildup and the best way to insult the people who cut them off, while Willow and Tara napped in the back of the van. Buffy sat up front next to Riley, who had borrowed the van from one of his friends, and stared out the window for the majority of the trip.

She was the last of the group that Riley dropped off. When he leaned over to kiss her goodnight, Buffy only inclined her head towards him so his lips landed on her cheek before stepping out of the van.

This had been one of the worst days of her life.

Her mother inquired about the outing, commenting on the darkness of her skin and asking if she’d had the good sense to put on sunscreen. Buffy smiled tightly and mumbled something in the affirmative as she continued up the steps toward her room, closing the door behind her once inside. Buffy placed her wicker beach bag by the foot of her bed and sat on the edge of it, staring at the pictures of her friends and Riley that she had plastered all over her mirror.

She’d messed up. She thought she could forget about her night with Spike and its affect on her relationship with Riley, but it was all she could think about. She hadn’t seen Spike in a week, but when she closed her eyes she could see him descending upon her lips, smiling smugly, or looking at her with hurt in his eyes. But at the same time she saw the disappointment in her friends’ faces, and she didn’t have to close her eyes to see the sadness in Riley’s eyes.

It was already there.

Buffy fell back onto her bed, wanting to cry, but no tears would come. She was selfish – she wanted to feel better without having to feel worse in order to do so. But if she came clean and told Riley, told everyone, then she would undoubtedly feel worse than she did now.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about Spike? She knew she wasn’t in love with him. There was something there, though. Something she couldn’t put a name to. Sometimes it felt like love, but she supposed she just wanted it to so that she could justify her reaction to him. She still couldn’t believe she’d slept with someone she didn’t love, or didn’t think she could ever love. After Parker she’d sworn she’d never do that.


Buffy’s fingers slid to her throat where the upraised flesh reminded her of where this all began – the bite. She wished that she’d thought of some other way to heal Spike, but at the time it had seemed to be their only option. No one had seen another way, and that raised the question of whether or not they’d seen it coming. Like it was inevitable.

The real question was, had she seen it coming? She had to say no, because if so she would’ve prevented it. But the feel of his fangs piercing her skin and the pull of her blood as it flowed into his mouth… it seemed so familiar. Wrong, but in a right sort of way.

Buffy rose from the bed and quickly changed into a pair of slacks and a t-shirt.

It was about time she went out and killed something.

* * * *


Giles frowned when he heard a knock on his door. Buffy or the others usually came in unannounced, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. Curious, he rose from his desk and opened the door, somewhat taken aback when he saw Riley standing on the other side.

“Riley,” Giles greeted. “Is something wrong?”

The boy shook his head. “No. I mean, yes, but nothing life-threatening. I hope.”

“What’s the matter?” Giles asked with concern.

“It’s about Buffy.”

The Watcher was alarmed, but not surprised. He opened the door wider. “Come in.”

“I don’t know what happened while I was gone,” Riley told him once they were seated. “But Buffy has been acting strange since I came back. She told me about Spike, and the demon, and she said that’s all that happened. I don’t know if I believe her or not.”

“You think Buffy’s hiding something from you?”

“I know she is. Something’s on her mind, Giles, and I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been acting like herself.”

Giles nodded. “I’ve seen her behavior since your return, and it has been unusual.”

“You think it has something to do with me?”

“I’m not sure. Buffy’s been acting strange ever since the incident with Spike.”

“She won’t talk unless she has to,” Riley elaborated. “And she’s jumpier than usual, like she’s expecting another shoe to drop. Is this normal? I’ve never been close to a victim of a vampire attack, I can’t say if this is some sort of trauma…”

“Well, it wasn’t an attack, was it? Buffy forced him to feed from her.” Giles couldn’t help but scowl as he spoke these words. “It’s a very unusual circumstance. She probably wants to feel animosity towards Spike—more than she typically does, that is—but feels that she cannot because he only did as she asked of him. It is strange—Spike has been rather well behaved since the incident.”

Thunder rumbled lightly in the background—both turned to the window to acknowledge the onslaught of rain but quickly returned to the matter at hand.

“I don’t know what to do. It’s like she’s depressed or something. We went to the beach today, and even there she didn’t seem happy. I just… I…”

“You want to fix it?” Giles observed. Riley nodded. “That’s the thing with Buffy. She has to solve her own problems.”

* * * *

Whoever said vampires didn’t like the rain had been mistaken, if ever a person had said such a thing. The light rain fell all around her as she encountered a large group standing around a fresh grave, welcoming a new member to their fold as she rose from the ground. A rather atmospheric clap of thunder sounded over their heads and the vampires turned around, finally alerted to the presence of the Slayer.

With almost synchronized growls they charged at her, mostly throwing sloppy punches, as these vamps seemed to fall into the strong-but-stupid category. Yet while they weren’t quick or clever, they delivered some hefty blows.

One such blow knocked her face first into the wet grass. Buffy didn’t turn around when she heard one of them fall upon her. She merely raised her stake behind her back and pushed, feeling it hit her target before the vampire’s gritty dust fell on top of her.

There were only two left—the fledgling and a rather burly vampire that reminded Buffy of someone from Xander’s construction crew. The fledge was the first to go, leaving behind Burly, who didn’t seem ready to go without a fight. He was putting up quite a good one, too, meeting all of her punches and even getting a few of his own past her defenses. Eventually he bested her when she was too slow to react, knocking her onto her back and throwing himself on top of her.

Buffy’s eyes widened as the vampire placed one hand on her shoulder and the other in her hair, pulling roughly with both to expose her neck to his extended fangs. Her heart skipped a beat as he lowered his head, and before she realized it had happened his fangs pierced her throat.