There was a certain something in the air that was thoroughly Sunnydale. Nothing that anyone could describe with any measure of accuracy; just a quality that was there. That would reassure anyone who knew the Hellmouth that they were home. That the normal, demon-inspired evilness was well at work, and the reality that the rest of the world deemed true was far away from reckoning.

Spike flashed her a cocky grin, wiping his hands free of dust from the newest vampire to be reintroduced to the earth. “Well, baby,” he drawled. “Was it good for you?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed, lowering her stake slowly. “It was too easy,” she pouted.

“Leaves a girl all…unsatisfied, right?”

At that, a slow grin crossed her lips. “You got a solution, Big Bad?” she retorted, taking a coy step in his direction. “Another vampire out here that’ll give me a challenge?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes sparkling. “Depends on what kinda challenge tickles your fancy.”

Her gaze dropped speculatively to his crotch. “Shouldn’t this be a joint decision?” she asked rhetorically. “What sort of challenge are you… up for?”

“You’re a dirty girl.”

“Wanna clean me?”

Spike smirked and seized her by the wrist, tugging her into his arms and capturing her mouth, his tongue dancing erotically with hers. Kissing him was always a breathtaking experience; the wealth of feeling that he poured into each stroke of his sinful lips both aroused her like nothing else and filled her insides with a sense of love and security that she thought she would never have as the Slayer.

“Mmmm,” he murmured into her mouth; naughty, wandering hands cupping her breasts. “You taste divine.”

Buffy grinned, wrapping her arms around his throat. “So do you.”

“You wanna…” He waggled his brows, enjoying her flush.

“Here?”

“Why not?”

She made a face that wasn’t nearly as put off as she would have liked. “Not in to voyeurism, thanks.”

Spike arched a brow, one hand abandoning her breast to slip under the waistband of her slacks, moaning into her mouth at the warm, slippery flesh that awaited his touch. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” he murmured.

“Uhhh…”

“’m sure there’s a nook around here somewhere—”

“I talked with Toby today!”

The vampire against her froze, his thumb poised over her clit. “Y’know,” he said. “I din’t figure you’d be in the position to remember names by this point.”

“Got your attention, huh?”

He smirked again, head rising to meet her eyes. He gave her sensitive nubbin a twist, wrangling a long mewl from her lips before he removed his hand completely, licking the dew off with an erotic moan of approval. “What’d the wanker have to say?” he asked, enjoying the glossy lust that had commanded her eyes.

“He wanted to know if there was any way to talk to Willow so that she would talk to Josh so that he could get to Josh and ask him about a thing.”

Spike rumbled his amusement. “Donna’s still not lettin’ anyone in to see him?”

“No one but Willow, and that’s only because she’s not on the President’s staff.”

He shrugged at that. “Seems fair to me. The bloke’s recoverin’ from a gunshot wound that nearly killed him. These ponces actually want him focusin’ on work?”

“Evidently.”

“Mhmm. An’ you felt this was important enough to interrupt our more…pleasurable pursuits?” With a devilish grin, he leaned in again, nibbling seductively on her neck right over the claim mark; indulging the small jolts of bliss that shot through them both at contact. “I’ll make a voyeur of you yet.”

“Nahhh…”

He grinned. “Real convincin’, aren’t you?”

“I’m not a voyeur.”

“Won’ take much,” he said, tweaking a nipple through her shirt. “I got an eternity to try, but…” His hand was coming dangerously close to slipping into her wet heat again, fingers mapping a pattern along the waistband of her pants. She was practically panting against him. “With responses like these, I don’ think it’ll take more than a couple of minutes.”

“Perv.”

“You love it.”

“That’s totally beside the point.”

“See, here’s the part where I don’ believe you.”

There was an interruption, then. A presence that hadn’t been there before. As though it materialized simply for the purpose of finding them as they enjoyed their relationship and the bloom of the rose that wouldn’t wear off for the next sixteen centuries, if ever.

“This is no way to address one made for the hunt, William.” The two pulled apart at that, turning simultaneously to the man standing prominently against the shadows. The man was very pale, very thin; very much a vampire with an accent that of the same make as John Carpenter’s wet dreams. “Especially one with…such power.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Bollocks.”

“Spike?”

“Drac.”

Buffy’s face fell slack, her disbelieving eyes landing on the vampire in question. “Seriously? That’s Dracula?”

The man at her side grasped her hand protectively and nodded. “Yeh, that’s him. Wanker still owes me eleven pounds, too.” He arched his brows expectantly at the vampire in question. “Vlad. So…well, no it’s not nice to see you. Why are you here, exactly?”

“Why I came does not concern you, William,” the count retorted, his eyes never leaving Buffy. “I am here for the Chosen One. The one called Buffy Summers.”

Spike’s eyes flared possessively. “’F that’s so, mate, I’m afraid you made the trip for nothin’.”

The Slayer’s gaze widened. “You’ve heard of me?” she asked the dark vampire. “Me?”

“Naturally,” Dracula replied, ignoring her mate coolly. “You’re known throughout the world.”

“Naw.” A pause. “Really?”

“Buffy…” Spike squeezed her hand warningly. “Sweetling, look at me.”

She did. Her eyes were clear. “What?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Wanker has ways of makin’ you do things. Some sorta whacked out mind control. Gave Dru a few pointers once or twice. Jus’ makin’ sure you’re still with me.”

“I’m still here.” She nodded at the other vampire. “What I wanna know is why he’s here.”

Dracula’s brows arched neutrally. “Why would I come here if not for you, Ms. Summers? For the sun? I came here to meet the renowned…killer.”

Buffy was not impressed. “I prefer the term slayer, if you don’t mind. Killer just sounds so…”

“Naked?”

“That’s enough!” Spike snarled, stalking forward. “The lady’s not interested in whatever you’re tryin’ to pass off, mate. Now kindly pack it up an’ get the bleedin’ hell outta our town, savvy?”

“My interests do not lie with you, William. You may leave.”

“Yeh. That’s happenin’.”

Dracula’s eyes darkened and he looked back to the Slayer. “And you let this one claim you?” he asked. “I was hopeful that that much was an unfortunate rumor.”

A fresh rush of irritation surged through her veins and she stepped forward defensively. “Well, you can kiss the chance of my asking for an autograph goodbye,” she retorted. “You’re treading on dangerous ground, Your Royal Snootiness. Spike is my mate and he’s right; you’re in my town. Get to the point and get out, or I’ll arrange an introduction between you and Mr. Pointy.”

Spike tossed her a grin.

“I came here to meet the legend, naturally.”

“Good. We’ve met. Now get out.”

A wry smile crossed the darker vampire’s face. “You’re magnificent,” he praised.

“Well, we agree on that much, Vlad,” Spike growled. “An’ she’s smart, which is more than I can say for the floozies that’ve fallen for this Prince of Darkness act before. Plus, if you’re here to seduce her, ‘m afraid you’re too late. The chit’s completely heads over for me.”

“I do not understand,” Dracula said, frowning. “She is not responding to my thrall.”

“Thrall?” the other vampire retorted incredulously. “’S that what you’re callin’ it nowadays?”

Buffy frowned. “He has thrall?”

“He has a thing where he thinks he does,” Spike replied, turning back to the other vampire with a smug sense of satisfaction. “See what I mean, mate? Way too quick for the likes of you.”

Dracula tossed him an irritated glance before glancing once more to the Slayer. “This one,” he said dramatically, gesturing to the younger vampire, “is not worthy of you. Not worthy of your taste. Your power. Your…legend.”

Spike’s azure eyes flared and he snarled viciously and prowled forward. “You bloody righteous—”

Buffy leapt forward and caught her mate by the wrist, tugging him back to her. After everything they had gone through in Natchez, she was inclined to think Spike was worthy of everything; his loving her a gift she still felt a little unworthy of, herself. He had already given her so much.

“Here’s the thing,” she said, flexing her shoulders a bit. “Spike and I? Kinda of the claimed. And really, not that the tall, dark, and devastatingly annoying look doesn’t work for you, ’cause really—it does, but my dance card is kind of filled from now until the next forever. You said you came here to meet me? Consider me met. Now turn around, get out of town, or again with the introducing you to Mr. Pointy.”

Dracula did not look impressed. “Slayers present no threat to me,” he retorted confidently. “Have not for centuries.”

“Well, first.” The next second, she was right in front of him, popping him squarely in the nose. “Not just a Slayer, bucko. Status has been upped to the god-like nature.” The count’s head snapped back, his eyes flashed yellow and his fangs extended. Unaffected, Buffy whipped out her stake and grinned ironically. “And second, well, I’d close my eyes if I were you.”

Before she could administer the killing blow, however, Dracula was gone. His body dissolved into an ethereal mist and disappeared altogether, welcoming artificial light into the cemetery where he had been. Buffy and Spike turned at the same moment, surprised and a little annoyed. Feeding on each other’s emotions in a manner that was already natural. The Count was gone but they were still not alone. The cemetery was suddenly occupied by a dozen or so men in camouflage, carrying guns and tazers. And all seemingly very interested in the two blondes that had formerly been speaking with the notorious Vlad the Impaler.

The Initiative.

“What is this?” Buffy whined. “International Interrupt Buffy and Spike Week?”

The vampire at her side grinned wryly. “Seems so, luv.”

So strange. The past few months were compact with so many different things; the last time she had been in contact with the Initiative, she had no idea who they were or what they wanted. Only that they were the cause of Spike’s handicap. A handicap the Scoobies hadn’t known the full extent of until they met people in the hierarchy of the government.

Buffy also knew that Riley Finn, the guy she had been trying to get interested in before they left, was a part of the Initiative. Which meant he likely knew Spike. Which meant he was a threat.

They were all threats. To her. Her mate. If they recognized Spike…

Well, they wouldn’t get that far. She would introduce them to the dark side of the Slayer before she let them come within throwing distance of her lover.

“Buffy,” Spike murmured, reaching for her hand. There was a high note in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. “Guess I don’ need to tell you…”

“Nope. Got that memo. Don’t worry—not gonna let them touch you.” She flashed him a weak smile, flushing at the sudden glow of love that warmed his eyes at her fierce defense. “And here we thought it was gonna be a slow night.”

“No such luck, sweetling.” He squeezed her hand. “Jus’ for the record, not gonna let them touch you, either. Don’ care how much it sodding hurts.”

The commandos were masked and not looking to make with the introductions. Buffy had the uncomfortable feeling that if these guys wanted to get serious, she would find out just how far rooted her god powers were. And that was something she was not prepared for.

Even so, when their approach did not slow, she broke and settled into a firm stance to take whatever they threw at her. “Okay, boys,” she drawled. “You wanna tussle—I’ll give it to you.”

The commando nearest to her stopped abruptly but did not say anything.

“If it’s Dracula you’re looking for,” she continued, taking a cautious glance at their surroundings. There were just enough operatives to give her a run for her money, but she would throw down whatever was necessary to make sure she and Spike got home tonight. “You just missed him. Did this funky disappearing act. But, hey, if you let me and my hubby go, I’ll make sure I dust him extra dead for you.”

“Hubby?” Spike murmured, arching a cool brow.

“Any objections, sweetie?”

“None whatsoever. Jus’ makin’ sure my hearin’ wasn’t failin’ me.”

She smiled grimly and turned back to the commandos who had stilled and were studying her as though she was some deranged experiment gone wrong. “Okay,” she said. “Small talk aside, one of you guys wouldn’t happen to be Riley Finn, would you?”

That caused a small rustle. The commandos started glancing uneasily to one another, not speaking but definitely unnerved. The one nearest to her simply stared, and she knew without having to know that he was the one she had just named. Same height. Same overbearing presence, even with months between their last meeting and a mask over his face. That was Riley.

“Ummm, did I mention that I know about the Initiative?” she asked. “And that I’m the Slayer and I have friends who work for the White House?”

That was it. One of the commandos behind her broke and decided to join the world of the vocal. “Agent Finn?”

“I got this, Forrest. Take the others and scout out the direction in which the hostile disappeared.”

“He didn’t go in a direction,” Buffy argued. “He just poofed.”

“We’ll find him,” came the gruff reply.

“Not if he doesn’ wanna be found, you won’t,” Spike muttered, smiling grimly at his lover when she shot him a pointed look. “Jus’ sayin’, pet. These wankers don’ know the Count like I do.”

Either the others didn’t hear him or they didn’t care. They had moved on in the next few minutes. All except one.

The man standing before her was one she hadn’t thought of in months. A man she had once been semi-serious about in that if-it-gets-serious-all-the-better way. A man she hadn’t thought of since Spike shimmied his way into her heart. Since that night in the Bronze forever ago, when she began falling in love with him.

Despite the absence of the other commandos, she sensed Spike’s tension heighten rather than improve. They had not spoken of the non-Angel men of her past, and now, a shining reminder was standing right before them. No matter that it had been weeks since she last saw Riley—weeks that seemed more like months. Not to mention that her thoughts about the Initiative operative had ended almost immediately after their last meeting. So much had happened—so much was still happening. She was an example of what would be present forever. Riley was a passing face on the road to eternity.

It amazed her that she had ever seen the man as a person she could date happily.

“Buffy,” he said, drawing away his facial coverings. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

She extended her arms and shrugged. “Here I am. In townish.”

His eyes waned suspiciously to the platinum vampire at her side. “Who’s this?”

The Slayer squeezed Spike’s hand once more in reassurance before he could lash out something in defense. “This is my boyfriend,” she said, stepping onto safer ground. “Spike, Riley. Riley, Spike.”

“Spike?” the other man echoed dubiously. “The one you were marrying but not really?”

“Yeah. But that was before he was my boyfriend.”

“A slot that’s not openin’ for the next bloody eternity, mate,” said boyfriend snarled possessively.

Riley frowned. “Do I know you?”

Buffy laughed loudly at that, big and fake; before the man at her side could stalk forward or implode into bumpies or do something else to give them away. “Oh, no,” she replied. “Spike’s…ummm…Giles. Relative of Giles. Son or…son.” She ignored the pointed glance she received in turn for that. “He came in from England around the time that I told you we were getting married…then I actually met him and now we’re all with the pre-wedded bliss.”

The hostility vacated the vampire’s eyes at that. Instead, he turned back to her, running his tongue over his teeth. “I’ll bloody well say,” he purred in agreement.

“Well…I feel awkward and…we’ll just stick with awkward.” Riley’s frown deepened and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I didn’t…how do you know about the Initiative?”

Buffy shrugged. “Like I said, I have friends in high places.”

“The White House? I’m fairly certain I heard you say the White House.”

“Well, you heard right. The White House. Know the guys there almost all the way up.” She licked her lips. “We met them in Natchez.”

“Natchez?”

She nodded, wincing as the conversation drew on. It was like watching herself through someone else’s eyes, reiterating everything she already knew for the sake of posterity. There was absolutely no reason Riley needed to know any of this. “Went there a couple months ago. Right after…right after I told you I was getting married. We got back and then Willow got an invitation to go see her boyfriend in DC and then—”

“Willow’s boyfriend?”

“Sam Seaborn.”

“Deputy somethin’ or other,” Spike muttered, kicking at the ground. “High up there in the pecking order of the politics an’ the…” He looked up when he sensed both pairs of eyes on him with growing incredulity. “I din’t say anythin’.”

Riley stared at him for a minute longer before glancing back to Buffy. “You and Willow just disappeared,” he said. “Walsh did things to your grade that you don’t want to know about. And—”

“Willow transferred to Georgetown,” the Slayer retorted. “Walsh isn’t a professor anymore, from what I’ve heard. And anyway, what I was doing in Natchez took precedence over going to school.”

“Buffy—”

“I know about you, okay? I know that the Initiative chases after vampires and sticks things in the heads of demons and whatnot. I got that from Josh—”

“Josh?”

“Lyman. Another deputy something or other.”

“The bloke that was shot,” Spike clarified, his body still tense. His eyes on the ground. He was holding onto Buffy’s hand as though the world depended on their connection. And when she got him alone again, she intended to eradicate all those fears and insecurities.

For now, though, they had appearances to keep up. The last thing they needed was the Initiative sniffing around Spike and his chipped self or her and her still-cooling god powers. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Josh was the one that was shot. He found out some…stuff…then he told us about the Initiative. But it was Angel that told me about you.”

Spike growled lightly at that.

“Angel? That vampire that came up here and—”

“Yeah. That vampire.” Buffy’s hands came up neutrally. “Look. I don’t…I just wanted to say…as far as professional demon hunters go, you don’t get more so than me. We’re not going to be friends on the field. I just wanted you to know that I know you and what your division’s up to. More over, I know people who have an ear to the President. So…just…know that, okay?”

“Buffy—”

“No. We’re done here.” She tugged on Spike’s hand. “Kill Dracula. Don’t kill Dracula. If you do, it’s no skin off my nose. If you don’t, I will. And my way will be a lot cleaner than yours.”

“Buffy—”

The vampire at her side growled once more, eyes glimmering dangerously near yellow. If Riley noticed, he did not reveal his surprise. Perhaps that meant there was none; she didn’t know. All she knew was she needed to get Spike out before he completely lost his temper.

When she was sure they were alone, walking briskly back to their apartment, Buffy pulled him to a rough standstill, cupped his face and kissed him fiercely. Pouring all her reassurance and love into his mouth. Whimpering when he grasped her back, attacking her with his tongue. Murmuring sweet nothings against her lips, tasting her with a sense of liberation that she doubted she would ever tire of.

“Thank you,” she whispered when they pulled apart, breathing harshly.

“For what?”

“Not losing it.”

“Came bloody close.”

“I would have, too. You didn’t lose it.” She smiled and kissed him again. “We just gotta be more careful in the future, okay?”

“I don’ like the idea of you out with that wanker, baby.”

“Well, thankfully, that’s not going to be a problem.” A sigh rolled off her shoulders. “I don’t know if he knows. About you or anything…”

Spike shook his head. “He recognized me, sweetling. Doesn’ know from where, but it won’ take him forever to piece it together.”

“It could.”

“It won’t.” He glanced down, his body trembling with an emotion she could not name, could not sense even through the claim. A broad mixture of love and apprehension, diffidence and fortitude. “Things are gonna get bloody messy, luv. If it’s not Captain Cardboard, it’ll be somethin’ else.” He paused. “There’s somethin’ in the air. Don’ you feel it?”

She couldn’t deny it. There was something. A premonition of something else that was brewing; something rooted in the earth of Sunnydale. A feeling she knew more for habit than understanding what it meant. Something was coming. She felt it as richly as she ever had.

“Yeah,” she replied. “There is something.” She wrapped an arm around his middle, hugging him back to her. “Let’s go home. We can at least finish up the…voyeurism before the thing gets here?”

The worry in Spike’s eyes shrinking for the lustful sheen she adored so much. He grinned leeringly and neared, gaze dropping to her mouth. “Voyeuristically?” he asked, running a hand down her arm. “Here? Now?”

Somehow she managed to wheedle a hand between them, pushing him back before he could distract her with more sinful kissage. “There,” she corrected, nodding her head in the direction of their apartment. “In a few minutes.”

“Not very voyeuristic, baby.”

“I have every faith in your ability to make it so.” She grinned and blew him a kiss. “Race you back.”

She was gone too quick to catch Spike’s devilish grin before he bounded after her.

And chased her all the way back to the apartment.

TBC