It Happened One Night
By: Golden Buffy


Summary: Drusilla made a small stop to Sunnydale mending the rift that formed between Buffy and Spike, or did she? Harmony tired killing Spike upon seeing him and Buffy tied up but Dru beat her up instead.

Disclaimer: I looked in my bank account then realized no matter how much I counted it I'd never have enough to buy Buffy and Spike. So as always they both belong to Joss and a few others. * sigh *

Author's Notes: Thanks to Just_Sue for helping me make this chapter pretty. Sorry if this chapter seems a bit fluffy, but my grandmother passed away recently and I needed some fluff in my life. So I hope you enjoy it!


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Chapter Sixteen: Promise of A New Day

The path to our destination is not always a straight one. We go down the wrong road, we get lost, we turn back. Maybe it doesn't matter which road we embark on. Maybe what matters is that we embark.
Barbara Hall, Northern Exposure, Rosebud, 1993

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“And you don't find it the least bit odd that the Council would knowingly destroy such an esteemed document?” Wesley asked.

Amanda paused, considering her reply. Really, she knew her brother had developed disdain to his former employers but to go as far as accusing them of destroying a Watcher's Journal was beyond ridiculous.

“Think about it,” he cut in before she got the start of her retort out. “The Council holds these books as something to be revered. Never in a million years would they destroy a single quote contained in those pages.”

“Well, brother, if Herr Lichtermann's journal isn't real, where do you suppose the true journal is kept?” Ha! She had him there.

Wesley sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Where would he keep something of great importance if he were trying to hide it from prying eyes?

“Look in the old section.”

“You know I don't have clearance for that,” she sputtered.

“Out of all your Council chums are you telling me there’s no one you can ask to use their clearance to get you in?”

Amanda paused, giving his question due consideration. There might just be a certain someone with such clearance. But convincing him to help her would be hard.

“Give me a day or two to get back to you; I think I know just the watcher.” With that she terminated the call, determined to complete her task.

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“That was... fantastic!” Amanda mumbled into Michael's chest.

“Yes, indeed it was,” he nodded in agreement.

She rolled onto her side beside him, tugging the covers over her exposed form. He followed, pulling her flush against his chest before burying his nose in her hair. With content sighs they both drifted off to sleep.

Amanda's eyes slowly fluttered open, unsure how long she had been asleep. Turning her head to the side she gazed at Michael’s peaceful face before gingerly slipping from his embrace and from her bed. She quickly pulled her bathrobe around her as she quietly made her way to their discarded clothing. Picking up the tweed pants she gave a quick peek over her shoulder, taking in his still sleeping form, before reaching into one of the trouser pockets.

Frowning, Amanda felt bad about the lengths she had gone to get her hands on a clearance pass. She had tried to convince Michael to let her borrow his badge. She assured him that it was for research only, but after countless attempts of him trying to get her to give him a hint of her “research” he discreetly declined. Defeated she had no clue how she was going to get into the old section. That’s when the idea of seducing him entered her head.

Normally she would never act in such a manner, but after speaking with Wesley the day before she couldn’t get her mind off of what the Council was hiding. Why would they replace the original document with a false one – if it was indeed false. She still held to the frail thread that her brother was wrong and the Watchers could be trusted.

Her hand groped in the confined space for a few more seconds. Bingo! Pay dirt!

Turning, she made her way stealthily over to the dresser. Opening the top drawer she reached inside to remove a small scanner. She ran the black plastic card through it then placed it back inside the drawer before returning the original card back to Michael’s pocket. With that out of the way, Amanda crawled back to bed.

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Blending in was a piece of cake. It wasn't as if it were hard, she was a watcher after all, and paying frequent trips to the library for research wasn't uncommon. She just hoped no one would pay her any attention as she slipped back to the secured area, where the most prized collections of the Council were kept. Locked behind a security door and down metal stairs into a climate controlled vault lay a journal which Amanda hoped would contain the answers she was searching for.

Giving a quick glance over her shoulder she removed the duplicate of Michael's access card and swiped it over the security strip. She held her breath and waited for the barely audible click of the security lock. The door swung open and Amanda released her breath with a silent sigh, relieved that the card had worked. Now came the tricky part, locating Herr Litchermann's journal and getting out before anyone noticed that an unauthorized watcher was in a highly secured area.

Amanda located the book without incident and slipped it into her satchel then removed the fake copy from upstairs and placed it on the shelf. She figured it would buy her a few days, just long enough to make photocopies of the real diary then return both of them to their proper places.

Returning to the main level, the brunette couldn't stop the small smile that stole over her features. Playing the part of a double agent was kind of fun. She could see herself getting used to this. Giving the tan bag at her side a small tap, Amanda returned to her office.

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With a wave of the hand Willow exited the house, squinting as the morning rays kissed her cheeks. She walked a few feet her mind swimming with different scenarios as to what was so important that Buffy would stand her up. The girl didn’t even call after flying out of the Bronze. Was it too much to ask for a quick call saying everything was fine? Willow’s thoughts traveled to the night before.

Confusion shot across Willow’s face at the blonde blur that shot past their table, which looked suspiciously like Buffy. The witch called out to her friend, trying to get her attention, but the fleeing girl ignored her, continuing to the front of the club. Willow had started to get up to go after her when she was nearly plowed over by another blur. She was sure that it was Spike due to the string of British obscenities trailing behind him.

Tara reached out pulling her girlfriend back down into her seat, quickly explaining that it was better for Buffy to work out her differences with Spike in private. They didn’t need an audience. Willow reluctantly agreed sitting down in her seat, her eyes flittering back to where Buffy had disappeared.

Ten minutes had passed and still no Buffy. Willow was starting to worry. Why wasn’t Buffy back? Why did she run out of the Bronze in the first place? What made Spike chase after her? So many questions swam around in Willow’s head that it was starting to make it hurt. Wanting to ease her lover’s suffering Tara prompted her to follow her out of the club to look for their missing friend. But outside neither Buffy nor Spike were in sight. It only made Willow worry even more. Maybe they had decided to go someplace more private to talk. Trying to have a heart to heart in front of a busy night club was counter productive. With that thought, the witch and wiccan headed back to the dorms for some snuggle time.

An hour later and still nothing. No phone call, no knocks at her door…. nothing! It was as if Buffy had dropped off the face of the earth. Worry bordering on hysterical, Willow decided to call Joyce.

Joyce had informed her that her daughter hadn’t returned home for the evening. She had asked Willow if everything was alright and the girl responded that it was, not to worry, that she had seen Buffy leave with Spike. Joyce sounded relieved by that bit of information and the two hung up. Willow nibbled on her lip. How could anyone be relieved by the fact that their daughter was in the company of an evil soulless vampire and couldn’t be found? On second thought, it was Spike. So Willow could maybe understand where Joyce was coming from.

Deciding to try one more time, the redhead rang Buffy’s cell, but again no answer - she was only greeted by Buffy’s voicemail. Frustrated she slammed the phone down, that’s when she called Giles.

To her surprise the ex-librarian wasn’t too worried. As much as it pained him he informed her that Buffy needed to work things out with Spike. To counter his reasoning she told him how distraught the slayer looked as she rushed out of the Bronze, to her surprise Giles said, “Don’t worry everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

Willow was positive that he had had more than one nightcap for the evening. There was no way in heck Giles would sit idly by while his slayer was missing, and tell her best friend that everything would be alright. Frustrated, Willow terminated the phone call. Why was she the only one worried about Buffy? She was so calling Xander!

Around midnight she was sitting down, getting ready to perform a locator spell, when the phone in her room rang. “Xander?” but it wasn’t him, it was the missing slayer. Relief washed over the witch before her Resolve face slipped into place and she reminded her friend on the importance of checking in, and letting one know that you were alive. Buffy apologized, her voice sounding tired and strained. She told Willow to come over later the following day and she’d fill her in on her vanishing act.

Buffy had told her to meet her at her house, right? That brought the redhead back to her original question, just what was so important that it couldn’t wait until after their talk?

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Buffy paused outside the door swallowing hard before brushing her hand over her haphazard pony tail. Raising her hand she rapped on the door. No response, which wasn’t unusual. With a sigh she pushed the door open and poked her head inside. Spike didn't bother to look up, just continued to stare at the muted TV.

So that’s how it was going to be. He was going to be all mopey just because she’d gone and broke his nose. It wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t as if she’d never broken his nose before. Still, she was upset and hormonal. Cut a girl some slack. Just how did he except her to act? Hello, she was kidnapped and chained to pillars under his crypt. So talking wasn’t the first thing on her mind. Plus, he was being a huge baby, not answering his phone when she called. She had tried him all morning, to no avail. Buffy knew that Spike wasn’t asleep and that he was screening her calls. If anyone had the nerve to be upset it was her!

The slayer slipped inside the crypt making sure that none of the deadly rays spilled in behind her. “I come in peace, see?” Buffy commented, waving a white handkerchief in the air. Spike snorted then flicked off the television. Getting up he walked over to his leather duster to retrieve his smokes. Buffy took that as a positive sign and walked further into the crypt. She went over and sat down in the vacated chair.

“Look, I come bearing gifts.” Placing the bags down on the floor she reached inside. “I have those spicy wings you like so much. Sorry about the onion flowery thingy, but you know they don't make it anymore. Oh, and I got beer. Well, it's non-alcoholic since I can't actually buy beer beer yet.”

Spike had felt the slayer’s approach before she had knocked, and muted the TV. He knew acting as if he wasn’t in there wouldn’t deter her from coming in. But he decided not to answer her knock anyway. He had yet to speak, only tracked her with his eyes as she walked into the crypt and settled into his chair. He lit the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag. So, she thought she could just waltz in come morning and everything would be forgiven? Fat chance! Bitch had another think coming. (I think you’ve told me that before, but I forgot. Need to remember that!) But she had brought him spicy wings. It was a good start.

Spike arched his brow at her. “What's this all about then?” he asked, gesturing to the bags.

Buffy's shoulders slumped. “What? It's not obvious? I'm trying to apologize. I sorta overreacted, ya know. Hitting you on the nose. I was all with the accusations, jumping to conclusions. I never once stopped to ask you what you were doing. Why you were hanging with special needs. Instead I just took in what I saw and thought the worst, and that was so not of the good.”

Spike had walked towards Buffy as she was talking, tossed the butt to the ground and started rummaging through the bags, removing the hot wings but leaving the beer.

“Why was Drusilla even here?” Buffy had to ask, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Had a run in with the Fore-headed One and he decided it would be fun to barbecue her and Darla for the hell of it. Got all nostalgic and wanted me to go back with her to L.A.” Spike finished with a shrug.

“Oh, well that's good... I mean good that you didn't go back with her. Where is she by the way?” The slayer asked, glancing around the room. “And did you say Darla's back?”

“Sent her back to the Poofter. Let him deal with her,” He replied.

Buffy made a mental note to get to the bottom of this Darla being back from the land-o dust thing. It was obviously not an area that Spike wanted to tread on at the moment. She decided to talk about something else.

“Well, he did sire her, so I guess she is his problem. But if she shows her evil fangs around here again, she’s dust.” Buffy twisted her fingers nervously, not sure what to discuss next. It was like grasping at straws. Spike wasn’t his usual talkative self. Buffy normally couldn’t get him to shut up.

“So, uh, you love me, huh?” Buffy blurted out. ‘Real subtle, Summers. Just ask the vampire if he still loves you after you’ve given him a nose job!’.

He had eaten a few wings and was licking his fingers when Buffy voiced her question. Spike sucked on his index finger contemplating her question, rolling it around in his mind as if he were tasting wine.

“Well, here’s a first. Slayer wants to have a heart to heart.” He said with mock interest.

“What? I can heart to heart. I heart to heart all the time. I’m the Queen of heart to heart discussions.” Buffy defensively shot back. How dare he judge her - like he knew her so well.

“Yeah, ‘cause talking about feelings with a disgusting soulless thing is your specialty.” Spike snapped.

“Hey, I never… okay, I have said that in that past. But that was before. Before we became friends.”

Buffy reached out and grabbed Spike’s hand, pulling him closer to her. He didn’t resist, she was touching him. And no matter how mad he was at her, he’d never refuse a moment of her gently touching him – even if it was in friendship.

She hesitated for only a moment before looking up at him; she had to see if he was looking at her. She needed him to be looking at her, so that he could see the truth in her eyes.

“Before I realized the change in you, Spike. I know it sounds funny, but it’s just - or it was - hard for me to understand, to wrap my mind around the fact that vampires can feel. Well, other than pain that is. Because if… if I believed that then it opened up a whole can of worms with Angel that I just couldn’t, or didn’t, want to face.” Buffy paused, offering a small sad smile to the vampire standing before her. “I know the devotion you showered on Dru. Hell, I saw it and still disbelieved. But I knew then like I know now. You may have no soul Spike, but that means nothing.”

Spike squatted in front of Buffy, taking her hands in his. He was trembling but fought against it; he didn’t want her to feel his reaction to her touch, to her words.

Buffy nervously chewed on her bottom lip, suddenly finding a spot on the floor of interest. She really couldn’t face his rejection, not after she’d just opened up. Plus he was right there in her face. So close she could… ‘Do not go there. Just because he loves you doesn’t mean you can go and take advantage of his sexy lips.

“Buffy, look at me.” She did, looking into his expressive eyes, seeing nothing but the truth waiting there. “I do. Love you. Meant every word I said last night. Doesn't matter what happened, nothing’s changed. You're in me. You're in here.” He gestured to his chest with their interlocked hands.

“Really?” Buffy’s voice shock slightly, along with her resolve. Eyes misting over, she fought to hold off the tears. “I... I can live with that.”

Spike reached up to wipe away a few of her tears. Was this real? Had he just confessed again his feelings for her and wasn’t a big pile of dust in his crypt right now? Was Buffy accepting the fact that he did love her? And was she really okay with that? This had to be a dream.

He hated to break the tentative silence between them but he just had to ask, had to know. “What Dru said…”

Buffy’s eyes shot to his once more, they were so open but hesitant. She could see that he was shielding himself for her rejection. She chuckled to herself. It was funny how they both put on tough façades, but in reality neither one of them wanted to be hurt, so they built up walls to shield their hearts.

“Funny thing that.” She giggled nervously, giving his hands a small but gentle squeeze. “I, uh, maybe I’m not the Queen of heart to heart discussions. It’s just, I think I do, love you in a non brotherly kind of way. Is... is that okay? I mean, can you... would you be okay with that?” She had never felt so vulnerable and open in years. Not since she’d had her heart ripped out and stomped on by Angel.

Spike smiled; the slayer was babbling, it was a good sign. And could he say denial much? She said she wasn't in love with him, but her love for him wasn't the kind she reserved for family and friends. It wasn't the declaration Spike wanted to hear but he could work on that. “Yeah, Slayer, that's fine.”

Buffy took a deep calming breath. “Good, 'cause I would so have to dust you if you said no. So we're cool again? No more hanging in shadows avoiding me?”

“Nope, right as rain, luv.” The vampire sat down on the ground next to the slayer and opened the container of food before offering her some. Bringing the wing up to his lips he paused, frowned then turned to face her once again.

“Scratch that, everything isn’t all right. You were a right bitch not telling me.”

Buffy sighed. ‘Here we go again. Should have listened to Dawn.’

“I know I was, Spike. But you have to understand. I was scared, and, well, scared. And did I mention I was majorly wigged? ‘Cause I was. I mean, I was trying to understand how it even happened, and how to deal, how you’d deal. It was a full out wiggins session. But I really did want to tell you. I just didn’t know how you would react.”

“So, your decision in not telling me had nothing to do with me being an evil soulless thing who’s tried to kill you more than a dozen times.”

“Well, duh, that did play like a huge part of it. But I was just scared.” Buffy glanced down at her hands. “Of your rejection. Stupid, don’t you think? I mean, I kicked your ass how many times? And here I was afraid of your reaction.”

The crypt grew silent at Buffy’s admission. Both blonds in quiet reflection, one silenced by the admission, and the other not quite believing what she had just admitted it.

“So, where does this leave us?” Spike asked, looking at Buffy’s lowered head.

The slayer’s head snapped up at the question. Just where did that leave them she wondered. They had crossed so many hurdles, from mortal enemies who helped save the world, to mortal enemies who no longer tried to kill each other because of a chip - which kind of forged another truce. A truce resulting in them actually getting to know each other and ending in friendship. ‘Don’t forget the one night booty call,’ inner Buffy sang, causing the slayer to roll her eyes.

Nervously picking at the frayed edging on one of the chair’s arms she replied, “Not sure. I mean, do you think we can take it slow, see where it goes?”

Spike arched his scared brow, his tongue curling behind his teeth in that naughty way that sent wicked images dancing though Buffy’s head. “What, you mean in me courting you or something? Kind of silly if you ask me. Already got you knocked up, let’s move on…”

“Don’t finish that sentence if you value you life, fang face.” Buffy threatened before throwing her chicken bone at Spike’s head and lightening the mood.

“See, you’re already back to empty threats.” He smirked, before throwing a bone back at her. Gasping in mock surprise, Buffy reached down to retrieve a small container of blue cheese dressing. Sitting back up she graced the vampire with a devilish grin.

“Don't even bloody think about it!” Spike exclaimed reaching for her hands.

“Whatcha gonna do, Spikey? Bite me?” she taunted before flicking some of the dressing at him.

“Now you're gonna pay, little girl.” Spike growled, as he reached for one of the unopened beer bottles, removing the cap, he placed his thumb over the top, before giving it a good shake. Buffy jumped up from the chair and started backing away from him.

“Spike, you wouldn't.”

The evil gleam in his eye said it all. With lightning speed he had her trapped in his arms before letting the sudsy mixer spray all over her. Buffy's screech could be heard all the way to the front of the cemetery.

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