A couple of days passed and Buffy’s back was healing well, thanks to the benefits of Slayer healing. She had taken it easy, not patrolling too much, letting Giles and the gang pick up the slack. They were happy to do it, to feel useful. She hadn’t exactly been big on the group bonding, recently. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her friends, she did. It was just that she couldn’t stand to be around them and see how easy their lives were. Willow was attending college, Xander had a job, and both of them were involved in relationships.

They had moved on with their lives and she was stuck with what she had. She didn’t have the time or motivation for college, paid work wasn’t an option, and she couldn’t even comprehend dating. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had offers from guys. Some of them didn’t seem to get the vibe that she put out. A vibe that said she was not to be approached.

Buffy was resigned to the fact that she was meant to be alone. That was what the whole Slayer mythology was about. The Slayer fights alone. The Slayer is alone. She sighed as she walked through the streets. Nightfall was approaching and it was still that kind of humid climate that was suffocating. The jacket she wore was light but still too confining. Briefly, she thought about taking it off. Then she remembered the sight she had seen in the mirror that night. Suddenly the muggy weather didn’t seem that important.

She approached the Bronze with every intention of just passing by. However, the cold shiver that ran up her spine stopped her in her tracks. There was a vampire inside the club. Possibly more than one.

Buffy walked to the door, finding no-one outside, she tugged on the handle. It opened. She took a deep breath and pulled it open completely.

Stepping inside she found the club was nearly empty. There was no music playing, no staff seemed to be working, and the dance floor was desolate. There was only one figure, sitting at the bar. A trail of ribbon-like smoke danced its way up from the cigarette he held in his pale hand. The black leather of his duster creaked as he shifted on the stool, and she heard the soft chime of ice hitting the sides of a glass. She knew who he was, of course. Had known as soon as she entered the building. He wasn’t easy to forget.

"You going to sit down and have a drink, or just stare at me all night?" Spike enquired, without turning around.

Buffy felt her fists clench at her sides, ready for a fight. She didn’t know why the vampire was back in town but the reason couldn’t be good. Spike had killed two Slayers’ in the past; no doubt he was here to try his luck with her again. Nevertheless, she walked slowly and calmly towards him. She reached the bar, keeping a safe distance as she looked the man over. He looked the same as he always had; the benefits of immortality. His white-blonde hair stood out even more starkly against the dark and dank ambiance of the club. His pale skin made him appear somewhat ethereal, the cheekbones still sharp as knives gave him a gaunt look to his chiselled face.

Spike turned to look at her, glittering blue eyes locking on hers. He motioned, with a casual wave of his hand, that she should sit down. She shook her head. He sighed, brought the cigarette up to his oddly sensual lips and took a drag. Buffy couldn’t quite figure out why she hadn’t already staked him. Spike was trouble. He killed without conscience and he revelled in the blood lust. Some sort of curiosity for what he was doing here made her just stand there and wait for what he had to say.

"Know what, Slayer?" His voice was heavy with smoke and liquor, his accent as harsh as she remembered "I’ve missed this place."

Buffy folded her arms, still on alert "What are you doing here, Spike?"

Taking a sip of whiskey, he shrugged, "Like I said, I missed the place. There’s a certain charm attached to a place such as this. Hellmouth underneath it, overrun by evil, witless Slayer as its only guardian. My kind of place"

"Witless, huh?" She arched an eyebrow "This witless Slayer has beaten you in a fight and will do again. Only this time, the ending will be more permanent"

Spike chuckled, genuinely amused "I doubt that, love. You see, I’ve noticed something ’bout you. You’ve not exactly been on top form, of late. I reckon I could easily get you to walk into an ambush"

Buffy felt her spine go rigid. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her eyes darted around the empty club.

"Oh, don’t worry," Spike said, taking another hit from his cigarette. "This isn’t an ambush. Just tryin’ to keep you on your toes. Proved my point though, Slayer. You didn’t even stop to consider this was an ambush. Careless, that"

She felt a flush creep up her neck "You shouldn’t have come back here, Spike. I told you if you ever did that I’d kill you"

"I’m already dead, pet," He grinned "Besides, how could I keep away? Sunnyhell’s my home. What with all the tasty treats walking about, it’s easy pickings. Nothing to stop me from painting the town red"

Buffy lifted her chin, glaring at him "There’s me"

He nodded, smiling "Right, right. The Slayer. Stuff of nightmares. Strange then, that I’ve been in town for a while now...and you haven’t even noticed"

The stopped her for a moment "Well...I guess you aren’t as big and as bad as you think you are, Spike"

"Maybe," The vampire nodded agreeably, pouring two chasers of whiskey "Or, maybe, you’re just not that good anymore"

With that he slid one chaser down to her. She caught it instinctively but did not drink from it. Spike smiled and downed his in one swallow. He let out a deep sound from his throat and poured himself another shot.

Buffy reached for the stake in her waistband, while he was preoccupied. She withdrew the weapon and held it down by her side. If she was going to move it would have to be now.

"Uh, uh, uh," Spike chided her, wagging a finger in her direction. "None of that. Honestly, a bloke tries to have a nice, civil conversation with a girl; what does he get for his troubles? A stake to the heart. I blame the feminists"

The Slayer just looked at him "No more games, Spike. I don’t want to talk"

"I always knew you were more of a straight-to-action girl," He licked his lips, suggestively "But let me ask you one thing before we get down to it"

She held her stake up "Sorry, but I don’t have heart to hearts with vampires"

Buffy lunged at him, stake aimed at his chest. Spike sidestepped her easily and kicked her in the back of her leg. Her legs gave way and she fell to the floor on her hands and knees.

"Now, what I was going to ask?" Spike mused, face now mutilated into the visage of the demon within him "Ah, yes. Is it true what I’ve heard? Angel left you?"

Buffy felt herself go cold. She gritted her teeth and stood, back straight, eyes deadened. The Slayer turned around to face the vampire. He was smirking arrogantly, like this was all one big party. She stared him down for a moment. Then she landed a snap kick to his chin, it was so fast it blurred. Spike flailed backwards but just managed to stay on his feet.

"So, that’s a yes then." He chuckled, reaching his hand up to his bloody lip "Not that I’m surprised. I mean, it’s not like you’ve really got anything to offer. Angelus told me himself that you’re a big disappointment in the sack"

The grip she had on the stake was so hard that her hand trembled, splitters bit into her skin, she ignored the pain.

Spike sucked the blood from his finger "Hmm. You really want to kill me right now, don’t you?"

Buffy remained silent but her face said it all.

"Well, before you do – remember that thing I said about this not being an ambush?" He smiled slowly; arms outstretched "I lied"

Buffy spun around and saw that there were three vampires behind her. She turned back and Spike had been joined by three others. Two more appeared behind the bar and several more were up in on the balcony.

Buffy heard a sound behind her, before she could turn a chain was wrapped around her neck. She grabbed at it but was yanked off her feet by whoever was holding the noose. The chain was pulled tighter and tighter around her neck, Buffy clawing at it. There were spots in her vision. Just before she passed out, Spike appeared in her line of sight.

He was grinning.