A/N: I won at the Rogue Poet Awards round 5, the “Best of the Best” round, for Best Plot Readers Choice. Thank you!

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Chapter 54 - Advances

“You are dead, aren’t you?”

“Couldn’t haunt you if I wasn’t dead, B.”

“But are you really you? Or are you some dream thing?”

“Hmm, I dunno. I feel like me. Yeah, I’m me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I gotta say, you’ve got the right idea. You’re the Slayer, life’s a bitch. Do it.”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you want. But vamps are tricky, y’know?” she continued. “One day you’re having a perfectly good fuck, the next they’re killing your boss. Then they’re torturing you for months before they decide to end it, holding you down and putting a—”

“Whoa! TMI! A world of TMI.”

Faith shrugged. “Thought you might like a few gory details. Let you know what to expect.”

“That won’t happen to me.”

“One wrong move and he’ll have you. But you already thought of that, didn’t you?” She grinned. “So. How’s your vampire?”

“You know what? I’m waking up now.”

Buffy awoke to a scraping noise, which she realized was the window.

Spike closed it as he turned toward the bed.

“You’re a vampire,” she said.

He eyed her curiously. “Yeah…”

“Faith knows you’re a vampire.”

“The dead Slayer?”

Buffy nodded.

“So? What’s she gonna do, tell all her dead mates?”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Spike, she’s haunting me.”

“Like the house?” He peered at the ceiling.

“Like my dreams.”

“What’d she say?”

“To do whatever I wanted.”

“Sounds good so far.”

“And not to trust vampires.”

“She’s got a point,” he said agreeably, sitting down on the bed.

“You are so not helping.” Buffy sat up, scooting next to him. “She started to tell me exactly what Angelus did to her. Then she asked me about my vampire.”

“Not your vampire,” Spike muttered.

“Spike! This is serious!”

“Sorry, love, but I think dreams featurin’ a dead chick are not your biggest concern.”

“I guess,” she said. “It’s almost like she’s messing with me.”

“There you go.”

Buffy leaned against him. “We do have a door, you know,” she said after a moment.

“Your mum’s not home. I come in the window, or I pick the lock. Your choice.”

“Or you could knock until I open the door. Or call me and tell me you’re down there.”

“That’s no fun.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fine. Window. I suppose breaking and entering looks worse.”

“You could always give me a key,” he said, smirking.

“I’m sure my mother would love that.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, I don’t even have a key to your place.”

“You want one?” Spike turned to look at her.

“What?” she whispered.

He petted the side of her head. “I do have two keys. No reason you shouldn’t have one.”

“I…um…” Despite everything else she and Spike had done, said, and arranged, there was something so official about a key. She’d never had a key to someone’s apartment before. Of course, no one had offered one to her, either.

He seemed amused by her indecision. “No need to get so jumpy, love.”

“I’m not jumpy. There’s no jumping. It’s just a thing. It’s a whole big thing.”

“Buffy, it’s a key. Nothin’ has to change.”

“Right. It’s just a key. So, um, did you come by to give me a key?”

“No. I came by to take you shopping.”

“For what?”

“Said I’d get some food you like, didn’t I?”

Buffy was touched. “Anything’s fine,” she stammered. “I mean, some sandwich stuff, or crackers, juice and soda…”

“Don’t know what kinds, now do I? C’mon, get dressed.”

“Okay,” she said after a moment.

Buffy got out of bed and went to her closet. She put on a pair of jeans and then turned her back to him and pulled her oversized sleeping shirt over her head.

She could practically hear Spike staring at her. Buffy slipped on a rose-colored tank top and grabbed a sweater jacket.

She turned back around. “What? You’ve seen it all before.” Buffy smiled, not giving him time to react. “Let me wash my face and stuff and I’ll be right down. Hey, go see what I set up in the basement.”

When she came down from the bathroom, the door in the kitchen was open, and Spike was standing halfway down the wooden stairs. He looked up at the sound of her steps.

She gestured to the mats she’d gotten from Giles. “I’ve got plenty of room to stretch and exercise down here. I also figured we could spar on these sometimes. The backyard’s good and all, but getting grass stains out of my clothing is becoming not so fun. Besides, falling on mats has got to be easier than the ground.”

Spike turned to her. “Soon you shouldn’t be fallin’ much at all.”

“That’s the general idea…”

There was a pause, before Spike said, “C’mon, pet, got a present for you.”

Buffy followed him back up the stairs. “What? Why?”

“Cause you need it.”

She stood in the kitchen and looked at him. “Well?”

“Get your stuff.”

Buffy grabbed her purse and locked the door as she went out after him. Spike picked up a plastic bag that he’d left on the porch and held it out to her. Buffy took it, opening it to find a shiny, silver ladies helmet.

Spike watched her turn it over in her hands. “Can’t be too careful,” he muttered.

She smiled. “You think you’re gonna crash?”

“No.” He scowled. “But gotta be safe, right? Wouldn’t be right to have the Slayer dyin’ in freak car crash.” Spike’s eyes met hers. “Can’t let anything happen to you.”

She put the helmet on. “I like it. Thank you.”

“Right. Let’s go, then.”

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Shopping with Spike was odd at first. He followed her around the store as she added items to her hand-held basket. She wasn’t sure what you were supposed to talk about while at the grocery store. Talking about the groceries was just lame, but anything else she had to say would seem majorly weird if overheard.

However, she found that if there was nothing to say, there was no need to fill the companionable silence. And actions spoke louder than words.

On the cereal aisle, there was a gothy girl in a black leather miniskirt who kept blatantly eyeing Spike. He ignored her, but Buffy couldn’t help catching the girl’s inviting smile and raised eyebrows. Buffy scowled and put a box of fruity granola bars in her basket. As she reached for another box, Spike’s arm wrapped itself around her shoulder.

It was a possessive gesture, something she would have expected if a guy had been coming on to her. It said, ‘She’s mine.’

It also said, ‘I’m with her.’

His arm stayed on her shoulder for the remainder of the trip.

At the register, she suspected Spike was going to pay, especially since he had said he was taking her shopping. But she opened her purse anyway.

“I’ve got it, pet.” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket.

“But it’s food for me.”

“And I’m buyin’ it for you.”

They had then gone back to Spike’s, where putting up the groceries together seemed horribly domestic and normal. Not knowing exactly how often she would be over there, Buffy had opted to buy mostly non-perishable, packaged foods, instead of things like sandwich or salad ingredients. Besides granola bars and juice, she had gotten crackers, some fruit, cookies, soup, and some pasta that could be fixed in the microwave. She’d also bought a cheap set of hard plastic dishes that were sold individually, and large bowl for cooking in the microwave.

They spent the rest of the day comfortably watching TV together, despite her occasional and unenthusiastic protest that she should be doing something. Not that there was much to do. It was New Year’s Day. Giles had the Magic Box closed and Willow had plans with Oz. Even her mother was gone, having driven to the next town over for some department store closeout.

But she and Spike could have at least been training or something. Even if curling up next to him as his arm looped around her was extremely comfortable.

Later they went patrolling, and for the most part had an uneventful evening.

But toward the end of the night, she caught sight of Angelus watching them from across the cemetery. He was standing just on the top of a small hill in the shadows of a mausoleum. There was a blonde woman with him this time.

“Darla?” she whispered to Spike.

“Yeah.”

Darla’s eyes met hers, and she smiled a knowing, condescending smile. Like she thought she knew everything that was going to happen to Buffy and was looking forward to it.

Buffy flipped her stake, daring them to come down. Angelus smiled, and the pair walked in the other direction.

Buffy’s fingers closed around the wood as they disappeared.

But it wasn’t time yet.

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“Just keep an eye on her. Find out what she’s up to, where she goes. If you want to have some fun, go ahead, but she is the Slayer, so…” Angelus spread his hands out and shrugged, “…probably not a good idea just now.”

None of the minions moved.

“We’re done. Get out.”

Darla watched as they shuffled out of the room. She turned to Angelus. “You know if any of them attack her, she’ll dust them.”

“So? I can always make more. Besides, who needs stupid followers? The Slayer can thin the herd for me. I was thinking of sending a whole bunch after her at once. Might try that later. Could be fun.”

Darla glanced at Drusilla, who had just walked in. “And where have you been? You’ve been gone since sunset.”

“Have a good night, Dru?”

“Our tummies were rumbly,” she crooned, shifting the dog in her arms. “We found a lovely pet shop. Kibble for Molly, and the owner for me.”

“Molly?” Darla asked. “I thought you named that overgrown rat Sunshine.”

“No,” Dru said, pouting, “There are two too many sunshines.” Then, seemingly amused at herself, she continued. “Three too many sunshines, four too many sunshines…”

“Right.” Disinterested, Darla turned back to Angelus.

Dru walked into the other room. “Sunshine, sunshine,” she whispered.