Spike knew he wasn’t where he was supposed to be as soon as he woke up. He was still in the Slayer’s room, in the Slayer’s bed, when he should have been halfway to his lair by now. Yet as he lay with his chest pressed to the soft mattress, sheets tangled around his waist, and the gorgeous Miss. Buffy Summers only a few inches away…he found himself not caring. She too lay on her front, facing away from him. The sheets were bunched up around her waist also, revealing the canvas of her back. Spike let his eyes dance over the expanse of skin and barely noticed the silvery scars that graced her body.

His hand sneaked out to smooth down her hair against the pillow, careful not to wake her. Not for the first time since they had started these series of trysts, Spike wondered why he felt so attached to this girl. As usual, he came up with no clear answers. Just more questions.

The vampire sighed and was seriously considering getting out of bed like a good boy, when a sharp tapping sound drew his attention. Spike sat up abruptly, looking around for signs of danger. He saw nothing. A few moments passed and then the sound came again.

He slipped out of the bed and followed the sound as it became more and more frequent.

Eventually, Spike realised it was coming from the window. He carefully looked out, hiding himself behind the curtain.

There was a man in Buffy’s garden, throwing stones at Buffy’s window. Spike felt his jaw tighten and he looked back over at the slumbering girl. Her forehead was creased showing the dream she was having to be unpleasant.

Quietly he pulled his jeans, boots, and duster on; not bothering with the shirt as he sloped out of the Slayer’s room and down the stairs. Making his way to the back door he pulled it open and stepped out into the darkened garden. The man was still there and turned to him as he came into view. Spike seized the other man up with a sneer. Curly black hair, blue eyes, medium height and build and one hundred percent vampire.

He had to wonder what a vampire was doing trying to wake up the resident vampire Slayer. So, he asked.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The other vampire looked him over genially. “I was tryin’ to get Buffy’s attention.”

Buffy. He calls her Buffy.

Spike scowls. “Well, you got me. Lucky boy, you are. Who the hell are you then, mate?”

“Jeremiah.”

“Never ’eard of you.”

“I keep a low profile.”

Spike took a step closer, approaching the centre of the lawn. Jeremiah’s hands rested comfortably in the pockets of his jacket, a composed look on his face. Spike narrowed his eyes and tried to get a better read of the bloke. He was like a stone wall. Easily forgotten but hard to break through.

Jeremiah smiled, slightly. “I’ve heard of you, though.”

“All good things, I hope.” Spike spat.

“Depends on how you look at it.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “I’d really like to speak with Buffy.”

“Not gonna happen.”

The dark-haired vampire chuckled, looking at him straight on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were her keeper. My mistake. Can I make an appointment?”

Spike gritted his teeth. “No, but you can tell me how it is you know the Slayer.”

“Buffy and me? We go way back.” He scooped up a handful of small stones. “I’ll admit, I tried to get a little frisky with her when we were first acquainted but she knocked me back.”

Spike’s fists tensed at his sides. “I’m not surprised.”

Jeremiah nodded, grinning. “Yeah, why would she stoop to my level when she’s got William the Bloody? Although, she does think you’ve stopped killing, so she doesn’t exactly have all the facts. Maybe she’ll change her mind. I’m a savvy dancer and know all about good table manners…”

He grabbed the intruding vampire by the lapels and drove him backwards into the wall of the house, hard enough to knock the wind out of a human. Spike’s face automatically slid into its vampire visage, teeth lengthening, eyes bleeding to yellow, forehead ridged. His hands gripped Jeremiah tightly, their foreheads pressed together and every muscle in his body taut and ready to fight.

Jeremiah just laughed. “Spike, come on, let’s not turn to violence. Pistols at dawn would be more appropriate…but then I guess neither of us would win that. You should calm down.”

“Yeah, alright, how ’bout I calm down by battering your face in?” Spike snarled, slamming the other male against the wall again.

“All I was saying was that Buffy deserves to know. It’s hardly fair to her, is it? You think she’s not gonna find out? Come on, she’s a clever girl.”

He was itching to kill this bloke. “What I want to know is, why are you so bothered about her in the first place?”

Jeremiah frowned. “I like her. She’s a good woman. Pretty, funny, knows how to kick my ass ten ways to Sunday…what’s not to like?”

“She’s mine.”

“Oh, really?” His eyebrows lifted. “She never mentioned that to me. I guess she thought she was her own person. But, listen, you don’t have to worry anyhow. I only came to say goodbye.”

Spike leaned in closer. “I’ll be sure to relay the message.”

“That’s very kind of you. But I have a few other things to tell her too.”

Spike reeled his fist back and aimed it at the other vampires face. Jeremiah was too quick for him though; he ducked underneath the strike and danced backwards into the centre of the garden. Spike growled and leapt at him. Again, he simply sidestepped and Spike found himself sprawled in the mud. This served only to make him angrier, the need to shut this guy up before he spilled to Buffy his primary concern.

Jeremiah folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t wanna fight. I just came to see the girl.”

Spike didn’t bother to reply this time; he began to circle the stranger predatorily looking for a weakness, a way in. He faked a moved and the vampire fell for it, darting away, but Spike was upon him in an instance. They both tumbled to the floor, Spike straddling the other man. He let out a snarl and proceeded to punch the bastard hard about the head. He was just starting to think about where he could get a stake from when they were interrupted.

“Spike, what the hell are you doing?”

The harsh whisper cut through the sound of his fist hitting Jeremiah’s face. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. The Slayer stood in the doorway of her kitchen, hair tumbling messily around her neck and shoulders, a fluffy white robe tied tightly around her waist, showing off the pale skin of her legs. If it wasn’t for the dirty scowl she was giving him, Spike would have said she looked divine.
He almost grinned, she still looked divine. The scowl kind of did it for him. Or, it would have, if he hadn’t have realised he was skating on a knife edge at that very instance.

He climbed off of the vampire on the ground and turned around to face her, face morphing back to its smooth lines. “I was seeing to this intruder. Making sure you and your mum were safe.”

“Cut the shit, Spike.” Buffy said in a no-nonsense tone, she squinted and then her eyes widened considerably. “Jeremiah?”

The dark-haired man sat up, slowly. Spike glanced down at him and saw his face was already beginning to swell and turn a nasty shade of purple. He could barely open one eye and his lip was cut, dribbling dark, cold blood down his chin.

Still, he managed a carefree grin. “Evenin’, Buffy.”

Spike watched as a look of actual concern flittered across the Slayer’s face before she promptly concealed it. He felt his blood start to boil again. Just how well did these two know each other, anyway? The Slayer couldn’t be playing him, could she?

“What is going on?” She asked, nostrils flaring.

“Nothin’ much, me and Spike were just getting acquainted." Jeremiah stood slowly, brushing off his clothes.

Buffy took a step out onto the back porch. “Yeah, looked like your face was getting well acquainted with his fist. Jeremiah, what are you doing in my back yard? How do you even know where I live?”

“Followed you.”

Buffy recoiled.

Jeremiah put his hands up. “None too gentlemanly, I admit, but not for nothing sinister I swear. I just came to say goodbye.”

She frowned. “Why? I mean, why tell me? By rights I should slay you right now.”

Spike liked that idea.

“Oh, come now. I thought we were past the flirting threats,” Jeremiah smiled, taking a step towards her. “Me and Eloise are leavin’ town, Sunnydale is not the most friendly place. Demons roaming everywhere, etcetera.”

She looked at him blankly. “You’re an odd sort of vampire, Jeremiah. So, alright, I’ll bite – who’s Eloise?”

“My girl. Met her a couple of nights ago, I did. She’s sweet.” He tilted his head. “And aren’t I supposed to be the one who bites? Not that I’d mind if you fancied it…”

Spike just about managed to stop the possessive growl that started deep in his throat. Even in the darkness he could see Buffy’s cheeks colour at the vampire’s teasing. Then she shifted from foot to foot and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Spike’s bad mood worsened; she only ever did the hair thing for him.

Jeremiah shrugged with one shoulder. “If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be. Well, no you don’t, but I’m easy enough to find. I wanted to talk to you about some other things but I suppose you’ll just have to work them out on your own.”

Spike glared at the vampire but he didn’t pay any attention to him, his eyes focused on Buffy. The Slayer, for her part, looked mildly confused. Her eyes ticked between the two vampires who had been brawling in her back garden.

“’Bye Buffy. And Spike…” Jeremiah turned and looked at him, “…we should have a drink together sometime.”

Spike didn’t miss the implication in that invitation and, apparently, from the Slayer’s expression neither did she. The southern-accented man tipped an imaginary hat at the girl before exiting her garden and disappearing. This left Buffy and Spike standing in the pre-dawn darkness, looking at each other. She looked all kinds of suspicious and Spike gave her a blank look in return. He made a very conscious decision that if she straight out asked him in that moment if he was still killing, he would tell her. No matter the consequences.

But she didn’t ask. And he didn’t tell.