a/n- a huge thanks to my beta, Kat!

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Chapter seven

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After a couple hours at Willy’s bar, an obscene amount of alcohol, and a right good tussle with a couple Vrolski demons, Spike was feeling a bit more like himself. His brain was a bit fuzzier, thanks to the alcohol (and a few good knocks to the head) which in turn muted the displeasure from his chest passenger. He refused to call it a soul. It was a parasite … a chest parasite. A warm chest parasite … like in that movie Aliens … Spike started to laugh; the image of an alien bursting out of his chest seemed totally trivial to the reality of having a soul.

God, he was fucked up.

Stumbling along aimlessly, he found himself in a graveyard. This wasn’t a total surprise. The undead were always drawn to eternal resting places. Spike had, in his more contemplative moments, thought that this was because vampires were jealous of the dead. The dead that got to stay dead. Ironic, he thought.

However, tonight Spike wasn’t just feeling the pull of the graveyard, he was feeling something else. He followed his feet, letting them guide him to wherever they wanted him to be. If he hadn’t been so inebriated, he would have sensed her long before he did. But as it was, he didn’t even realize she was close until he saw her. He came to stop behind a growth of trees, his eyes riveted to the scene before him.

She was magnificent; an utter masterpiece to behold. Her hair flowed freely like a golden halo. Her eyes were bright and sharp, filled with determination and stubbornness. Her body … Spike let his eyes drift over her curves as she moved with supernatural grace. She was seductively lethal. In a blink of an eye she had two vampires dusted before turning to the third. She was beautiful. Taking a deep breath, he groaned softly. She smelled absolutely delicious. His soul purred deep within his chest.

Spike winced when she tripped slightly. The vampire she was fighting took advantage of her mistake and lunged for her. Buffy darted away but not before the vampire landed a sharp hit to her cheek, breaking her skin, letting her blood run free.

At the smell and sight of her blood Spike lost control – all vestiges of drunkenness left him, leaving behind a lethal predator. One second he was standing in the shadows, the next he was vamped out and pounding the vampire into the ground. Raw rage coursed through him. With a vicious twist, the nameless vampire’s head came off and his dust spread across the ground, slipping between Spike’s fingers. He stood, his chest heaving.

All the other vampires had either left or been dusted by the slayer. He didn’t care either way. All he cared about was her. In three long strides he was standing in front of her; his hand ghosting over her wounded cheek.

He said nothing, only scanned her for injuries. He didn’t touch her though his fingers itched to close the gap between them. Finally, he raised his eyes to hers, and like in the library, he was lost. Her breathing was heavy and his sped up to match hers. Buffy watched him mutely, her eyes wide. Lifting a shaky hand, she touched his cheek. He stared at her in wonder before he sighed softly and leaned into her caress.

Her fingers grew bolder and traced his sharp cheekbone. When she spoke, her voice was soft, questioning, “I don’t understand.”

Spike watched her eyes memorizing his face for a silent moment before he replied, “Me neither.”

“Why does this feel so…”

Spike shifted closer to her. He hesitantly rested his hand on her hip, grateful when she didn’t object but rather seemed to sigh and lean closer to him. “I know.”

Buffy curled an arm around his neck. “I don’t even know you.”

Spike smiled crookedly at her, somewhere in his mind he wondered at the absurdity of the moment. “We’ve met before, love.”

“You know what I mean.”

Spike slipped an arm behind her, running his fingers through her hair. It was softer than he’d imagined. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“I’m the slayer.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You say that like
you expect me to disagree.”

Buffy stared up at him, a bare few inches separating her face from his. “You’re a vampire.”

“Still with you, pet.”

They stared at each other for several long moments. Then, without knowing who leaned forward first, their lips met. Spike groaned and pulled her closer; Buffy grasped him tighter as though she was afraid he would try to escape.

Then, as suddenly the kiss began, it was over. Both vampire and vampire slayer were sprawled on the ground several feet apart. Neither had pulled away from the other, but it seemed a force had driven them apart. They stared at each other dazedly.

Buffy rose to her feet slowly. “What … what happened?”

“I don’ know,” Spike said. He stood and began to walk towards her.

“Don’t.” Buffy held up a hand. Spike stopped mid step. “When you get near me I … I can’t think.” She couldn’t look at him; she was afraid of being caught in him again. “This is … wrong.” Her voice wavered, as though she was trying to convince herself. “We’re enemies … I have a boyfriend.” She missed the
hurt and jealousy that crossed his face.

Spike glared at the small blonde; jealousy and hurt licking his insides. “Is that right? Thought I’d heard the slayer was an easy piece. Not really one for spoiled goods, if you get me. Go spread your legs for the ol’ poof. He’d screw anythin’. Always did, always will.”

Buffy slapped him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You … you bastard!”

Spike’s heart clenched at the sight of her tears. Remorse flooded him. “Oh, bollocks, I didn’ mean any of it. Love, please …” He raised his hand to wipe away her tears. She slapped it way. Before he could say another word she grabbed him by the lapels of his duster and kissed him furiously, angrily. Stunned, Spike barely began to respond before she pushed him away harshly.

“Stay away from me,” she growled before running off into the night.

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His eyes burned her. She knew he hadn’t come after her and was likely still where she left him, but she could still feel him. She could see him in her mind’s eye. His face was so open – so clear to her. She could read him so easily. It was like she’d known him all her life. How was this possible? A few days ago he had been her enemy. A vampire she only wanted to dust. She stumbled, a choked sob escaping her throat. No! She didn’t want him to dust … she didn’t …

She fought the urge to turn around and run back the way she came, just to make sure he was alright.

What was wrong with her? He was evil. And those things he said to her …

How could she have let him kiss her? Why did she kiss him again? It was like she had no control over herself … and all she wanted to do was go back to him. It was wrong. It was some sort of spell. It had to be.

She entered her house without completely realizing she had arrived home. She mumbled something incomprehensive to her mother before she trudged upstairs to her bedroom. Deep in thought she entered her room, closed the door, and was about to fall onto her bed when she realized she wasn’t alone. Sitting in the very middle of her bed was a cat. It was pure white with black around its mauve eyes like a raccoon. The cat watched Buffy with a mysterious haunted look only a cat is capable of achieving.

Surprised, Buffy asked inanely, “Where’d you come from, kitty?”

“I really prefer to be called Dardiana, if you don’t mind,” the cat said.

Buffy’s eyes widened and she gasped. She hurriedly backed away from the bed, her body sliding into a defensive posture.

The cat stared at her impassively. “Samda was right. You humans really are jumpy.” It strode over the edge of the bed closest to Buffy. Buffy squeaked and backed away until her back hit the wall.

The cat seemed to roll its eyes. “Good grief. Some slayer you are; scared of a cat.”

“You’re … a cat.”

“Indeed.”

“And … you talk.”

“Gee, nothing gets past you, huh?”

“Are you a demon?”

The cat snorted. “Hardly.” It seemed to pull itself up straighter, its tail twisted around itself in an elegant manner. “I am Dardiana, goddess of misdeeds and oddities. You may call me Dardi for short.”

Buffy was silent for a long moment. “You’re a goddess.”

“Well, nothing’s wrong with your hearing.”

“You’re a talking cat goddess.”

Dardiana’s eyes narrowed. “I merely take on this form to enter the mortal realm. I am here to set things along the proper course.”

Buffy shook her head, muttering, “This is insane. I’m insane.”

Dardiana’s ears twitched in annoyance. “I assure you that you are quite sane. I am here to restore order and correct the timeline.”

Buffy stared at the cat in bewilderment. “What?”

Dardiana sighed. “Maybe I should have gone to the Watcher first.” Seeming to come to a conclusion she continued, “Let’s go to your Watcher. Maybe he can get through to you with some sense.”

Buffy numbly watched Dardiana nimbly hop out her open window to the tree and gracefully land on the ground. “Come on!” Dardiana hissed from the lawn. Buffy only shook her head again before following the cat outside.

--

When Giles opened the door his hair was tousled and he was wearing a housecoat. His glower immediately changed to surprise and worry at seeing his slayer on his doorstep.

“Buffy! Is everything alright?”

“I … well …” she trailed off, unsure what to say. How does one explain a talking cat? She wasn’t even completely sure she wasn’t crazy yet.

“At the moment, everything is fine, Watcher,” Dardiana clipped.

Giles appeared confused for a moment before his eyes lowered and landed on the cat.

“Allo, Watcher,” Dardiana said, then slipped between his legs and into his home.

“Buffy …”

“Uh huh.”

“Did that cat just …?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, dear.”

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