disclaimer on first part.

"That's right. Aletta wants him dead so bad she'll make a deal with just about any vampire she thinks has a hope of killing him."

"Why?" She asked, frowning.

Spike shrugged. "Angelus annoyed quite a few vampires when he lost his soul, pet. He was...quite the ladies' man. They weren't fond of the sudden switch. Darla was only one of them. Aletta was another."

"So what do you think Aletta will do now?" Buffy wondered.

"Look for us...look for Dru. Her minions are probably combing the city right now."

"I still say I should check out that club," she insisted.

He hesitated, then offered a compromise. "Tell you what...tonight, we'll go take a look."

She yawned suddenly. "I can't believe I'm so sleepy...not when I've been unconscious so long!"

"It's one of the early reactions, luv," Spike told her gently. He pulled her to her feet...she stumbled slightly because of the afghan, and he lifted her like a child.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked him sleepily.

"To bed, kitten."

Once again he placed her on the bed, making certain the curtains were closed and the shades pulled down.

When he was finally satisfied he tuned back to the bed- and stopped abruptly.

The denim jumper had been pulled up beneath her; now the afghan slipped to the floor, giving Spike a clear view of long legs that seemed to go on and on....He drew closer, drawn as if by a magnetic force. His brain screamed at him not to touch; but his hands seemed to have a life of their own. They unbuttoned the jumper, pulling it over her head. Then the peach sweater.

"What the hell," Spike decided, stripping off the wisps of her underwear, "I already HAVE seen everything!"

Yet his breath caught; and he stared at her for a long moment...so small and seemingly fragile...so very pretty.

She whimpered with cold, reaching out for a non-existent blanket; and he was recalled to himself. Cautiously he eased her beneath the covers...she curled on her side, tucking one hand beneath her cheek.

He smiled down at her, aware of a reluctant tenderness. "I guess turnabout's fair play, luv." He removed his clothing and slid in beside her.

At first he tried to keep his back to her; but it was too hard. With a muffled groan of defeat, he rolled towards her, spooning against her back.

Despite his excitement at the contact, he felt his eyes growing heavy; the bed was so soft...and she was so soft...he'd found them a wonderful haven.

Surely a reward was called for?

His hand cupped one of her pert breasts. She murmured something...he couldn't tell what...and snuggled against him.

Then sleep claimed them both.

"No." Her voice sounded, muffled, from the bedroom. "Jess is slim but tall; and Susan is short but heavier. I'm slim and short! Nothing seems to fit..."

He opened his lips to say something sarcastic; but the words died on his tongue.

She wore a long sweater tunic- deep chocolate with square buttons of natural wood, that came mid-way down her thighs. She'd paired it with suede half-boots.

"Like it?" she turned like a model. "It belongs to Jess; but she wears it with a matching skirt. The boots are Susan's."

He licked dry lips. "It looks...good." Cor, how would he ever get her out of Aletta's in that get-up? Every vampire and human in the place would be all over her!

Buffy pushed her sweater sleeve up to reveal a carved wooden bracelet. "This doesn't look valuable. I hope they won't mind if I borrow it."

Spike exploded. "What kind of vampire worries about that? Vampires do what they want!"

"Do they really?" Buffy queried, wide-eyed. "Some of them..seem...practically slaves!"

This gave Spike pause. "Well, yeah...just the mindless ones, and the fledglings...until they serve a more powerful vampire as Master..or...get control of some other vampires, or..." his voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Oh." She nodded. "I understand."

He had the uncomfortable feeling that she really did.

The rain had ended, but the air was cool and foggy, turning Buffy's hair stick-straight as she and Spike walked through the Haight.

Buffy looked around with interest. "This looks like those old pictures of Woodstock."

"It is," Spike answered. "A lot of these people are holdovers from that era. Or, they're wannabes who missed out on the sixties and think they can go back. They can't."

"Uh, Spike...YOU fit right in," she pointed out.

He scowled at her but had to admit she was right. Of the two of them, she was the one who attracted the most attention.

Spike thought about that. True, she was young and pretty, but so were dozens of the girls who strolled the hills of San Francisco.

"There's...something about you," he said suddenly. "You're not like anybody else in the world, are you?"

"Well, duh....I am a...I mean, I WAS a Slayer!"

"It's not just that, pet," he beagn.

"Look!" Buffy interrupted with an excited shriek.

Spike glanced around wildly. " What..."

"It's a dragon!"

Buffy grabbed Spike's hand and pulled him forward, towards the enormous green-tiled gate surmounted by the huge winged dragon.

"It's the gate to Chinatown,luv," Spike informed her.

She looked at him with big, pleading eyes. "Spike...can we go in? For a minute?"

The streets were narrow and crowded, so Spike acquired a firm grasp on Buffy's arm. She didn't resist him, tucking one hand into the pocket of his duster.

Buffy was interested in everything, from the row of ducks hanging in a shop window to the pagoda-topped streetlamps.

She fell in love with a small amber dragon; and coaxed Spike into buying it for her.

"I'll name him Won Ton," she giggled. "Thank you, Spike!"

He rolled his eyes. "What you ought to get is one of these, kitten."

He drew her inside an elegant jewellery store, and he indicated the gold Chinese letters.

"What's this one?" he asked the clerk.

The man smiled warmly. "Long life."

Buffy suddenly looked rather somber; and Spike hastily chose another. "What about this?"

"That means good luck."

Spike nodded, satisfied. "Could always use that, luv."

After that he decided he wanted to see her in a rather short pink kimono...

"Not on your unlife!" Buffy retorted.

"It's better than a towel, pet," he pointed out.

She gave in; but then he felt HE had to give in when she wanted a large paper parasol.

"No more!" he argued, voicing a belated protest. "Look at us...we've got so many bundles we look like sodding tourists!"

Chinatown was closing up...firmly he guided Buffy away up one of the steep hills.

"Spike!" she exclaimed in delight. "Cable cars!"

He sighed. A crowded cable car...but she turned imploring eyes on him, and he caved.

"At least it'll take us to Fisherman's Wharf."

He fumbled their bags up the narrow steps. The inside seats were taken, but he held her hard against the outside rail. Buffy laughed with joy as the cable car careened down the hills toward the wharf.

"I feel like we're going to plunge right into the sea," she squealed.

They did not...they arrived safely, and then wandered happily along the wharf.

"I'd love to get presents for everyone," Buffy said wistfully. "When I go home..."

"Home?" Spike asked sharply. "You mean, to Sunnyhell?"

"Of course!" she said, surprised. "I know I'm not the Slayer any more, but maybe they'll still...let me help?"

He was about to respond when abruptly he stiffened. He grasped Buffy's arm and pulled her into one of the garish souvenir shops.

"Who is it?" she asked softly.

"Saul. One of Aletta's underlings," he replied.

"Let's follow him!" she suggested.

"If Aletta's club is still closed tomorrow, maybe we'd better break in," suggested Buffy, leaning dangerously out over the back rail.

Spike acquired a firm grip on her waist.

A young couple climbed aboard, giggling happily.

"You know, Griffin, that was great! I always wanted to see Beach Blanket Babylon, but never did!"

"But Julia, you've lived here your whole life! How'd you ever miss it?"

"Guess I didn't realize what I was missing! I loved it!" She reached for his hand, and the pair hopped off at the next stop.

Buffy turned to Spike inquiringly. "What's Beach Blanket Babylon?"

"A revue, I think, pet," Spike said uneasily. They had no TIME for this stuff!

She said nothing but got that big-eyed wistful look he found so hard to resist.

"Um...I suppose we could have a go tomorrow," he conceded, "before we go to Aletta's."

She beamed happily at him.

He insisted they feed before going back to their apartment; and they nearly fell into a quarrel when she refused to kill.

"What a nancy!" he griped; but in the end he left the victim alive.

They were hardly on speaking terms when they got back to the apartment; and she grabbed the bathroom first.

When it was his turn, he took his time with a long, cleansing shower, his temper still ruffled.

He emerged to find Buffy stretched out on the couch; clad in the new pink kimono.

His stomach dropped like a rock; and he felt the impulse to pant. Why had he thought he'd like to see her in a short kimono? It was torture!

It didn't help matters in the morning, when she rolled over and cuddled against him.

Spike clenched his jaw. No matter how much he reminded himself that this was temporary and would end when he had Drusilla back, he had to admit that he was enormously attracted to Buffy. Had been, even while she'd been the Slayer.

She sighed in her sleep, her silky hair tickling his neck. And he wound both arms around her, holding her close.

He told himself he was entitled to this...after all, it did no harm.

But- for the first time- he was aware of the danger in what he was doing.

Buffy was dressed in a long, purple, sleeveless tunic over a black lace camisole...and black suede half-boots. The Chinese charm he'd bought for her glittered at her throat, reflecting the golden lights in her upswept hair.

Spike stared at her avidly. "You...you look...."

"What?" she prompted shyly.

Gorgeous, he wanted to say. Exquisite. Overpoweringly radiant.

"Nice," he concluded lamely.

She smiled at him happily. "Ready?"

The theatre was in North Beach; and naturally Buffy insisted on riding the cable car to get there.

They had a tiny table to the left of the stage; and Spike ordered a bottle of wine. And they laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more.

Afterward, they could never remember which of them suggested that they forget Aletta's and just go home. They only knew they ran, hand in hand, through the Haight, still bubbling and giddy with happiness.

At the door of their building he finally kissed her...and somehow one kiss, however long and deep, wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

He couldn't stop unil she was wearing nothing but the Chinese symbol; and then...then he couldn't stop at all.

He flung his clothes on in a frenzy and rushed out- only to find her seated on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television. He stopped stockstill, watching her.

"What..are you doing?"

She shrugged, avoiding his eys. "Waiting for you. It's time to leave for Aletta's."

He observed, then, that she was wearing a pair of sweat pants plus the sweatshirt he'd bought for her the first night.

Spike took a single step forward. "Buffy..."

"We have to go!" she insisted, jumping quickly to her feet. She hurried to the door...and there was nothing he could do but follow.

All the way to Aletta's she fended off his attempts to talk, until finally he gave up.

He really wasn't certain what to say, anyway.

"It's still locked- and dark," Buffy commented, studying the doorway.

"You were expecting red carpet treatment?" he snapped. Her standoffish attitude, along with the turmoil inside him, was rubbing his temper raw.

Part of him wanted to shout at her, insult her, make her cry. A dim suspicion that this would hurt him even more than it would her was the only thing that inhibited him.

"Ready whenever you are," Buffy said.

Spike stared at her. He hadn't been serious about breaking in...what would be the use? But there was no way he'd back down in front of her...to put up with her sauce. HE snapped the lock on the back door, and it sprang open in response to a hard kick.

"Stay behind me," Spike ordered, starting in.

Ignoring this, she stepped up beside him.

"I thought I told you..."

"You did," she cut him off. "But why should I do what you say?"

Spike lost his uncertain grasp on his temper. "Do what you want! I couldn't care less! Get yourself killed, you stupid twit!"

"Stop calling me names!" Buffy snapped.

"I do as I please! You're a proper little bitch; and I can't wait until I get shut of you for good!"

Spike shoved in front of her and slammed through the doubledoors that led to the main room of the club.

There, he thought with a savage satisfaction. That put her in her place! Teach her to make him feel...make him...feel...

The silence was unnerving.

"Buffy?" he said quietly.

There was no response. Spike spun around to find...no one.

Buffy had vanished without a trace.

He stared around himself in stunned disbelief, unable to accept the evidence of his own eyes.

Then...he heard a faint sound from behind... They surrounded in in a tight circle; he counted at least twenty vampires.

"Hello, Spike," said Aletta's voice.

The lights came up- and he found himself in a large room with a roped-off ring in the center.

Aletta stepped forward, smiling. "Welcome to the arena!"

She moved aside, then- and Spike had a clear view of his opponent.

Angel.

"I got tired of waiting for you to fulfill our agreement, Spike," Aletta said coldly. "So I took matters into my own hands."

She wore a flesh-colored beaded dress- so sheer that she seemed clothed only in sparkles of light. She walked over to a chair at the far end of the room and seated herself.

A dozen of her minions flung Spike into the ring.

Aletta laughed harshly. "Afraid to fight your sire, Spike? Perhaps...you need an incentive?"

She nodded at the door behind her; and it opened to reveal Drusilla, clutching Miss Edith in her arms.

"There is your prize, gentlemen," Aletta said mockingly. "May the best vampire win!"

Drusilla, her crimson satin dress swirling about her feet, seated herself beside Aletta.

Then- Spike's stomach dropped like a stone as the big vampire, Saul, marched in- dragging Buffy.

Dru gave them a reproving glance. "That is a present for my Spike."

Saul grinned. "Yeah, but maybe he'll share, right, Spike?" Deliberately he ran his hands all over the Slayer.

Spike frowned. BUffy's hands were chained behind her; but she was far stronger than any ordinary vampire. She must be holding back, waiting for the right moment.

Buffy made no sound, but Spike could see her staring at the ring. At Angel, of course. Her love for his sire was the motivating force of her life...not to be compared with a few rapturous San Francisco nights...

He was so busy with his speculation that he almost missed the next entrance. Almost.

Because nobody could miss Bertrand.

The young vampire must somehow have been caught in the fire; his ear and left eye were gone, and that entire side of his head was a blackened, scarred ruin.

In time, he would rejuvenate.

In time. A rather long time, Spike would imagine.

Bertrand was glowering at him malevolently.

Drusilla became distracted, turning to look at Buffy. "I gave you to my Spike," she repeated pettishly. "You were meant for my Angel- but now he doesn't want you anymore."

Spike felt a sudden impulse to slap Drusilla, for saying that to Buffy.

"Angel," he said urgently, out of the side of his mouth,"I think Buffy may be able to get loose..."

The blow from his sire sent him reeling back.

"Don't ever say her name again," the dark vampire told him icily. "You killed her...or that crazy bitch did. And you'll pay for it- no matter what happens, I'll kill you both today!"

He rushed Spike again, and the blond vampire managed to sweep his legs out from under him.

"Listen Angel!" he hissed. "She's kept her soul! You can be together..."

Angel backhanded him so hard that he felt his head snap back painfully.

"She's..a vampire!" Angel growled, low in his throat. "I'll destroy this...thing...you have made of her, I swear it!"

Spike caught Angel's arms, using them to propel the older vampire over his head. He knew his demon was perilously close to taking control; but only together could Spike and Angel...and Buffy...have a chance of getting out alive.

Angel forced him back against the ropes, hands tightening on his throat...

"Angel, look at her! Just look, and then tell me...who is it that you love? Buffy...or the Slayer?"

Angel's burning eyes wavered uncertainly...then settled on Buffy. Spike thought he could detect a softening of the dark features.

"Help me save her, Angel," Spike said quietly. "She hasn't changed. Nothing that happens to her can truly change what she is. You know that! You...KNOW that."

The dark eyes cleared, the hands loosened their grip, and Angel nodded slightly.

Spike returned the nod, caught Buffy's eye, and mouthed "Now!"

All three exploded into action.

Buffy snapped her handcuffs; but put the dangling bits of chain to good use as she pummelled Saul. Spike almost grinned at that- trust her to get her own back!

Angel was a battering ram as he fought his way to Buffy through Aletta's minions.

Spike went straight for the source, vaulting over the ropes to grab Aletta. She hissed ludly, struggling to free herself, using razor-sharp talons to good effect. One slashing blow opened his cheek to the bone, barely missing his eye.

But her managed to wind a skein of cornrow braids around one wrist, forcing her head far back.

"Call them off," he commanded, the menace in his voice sounding clear.

She managed to gasp the order, and her minions reluctantly retreated.

"Spike?" Drusilla's voice, distressed.

Bertrand stood behind Dru- a stake pressing against her heart- his ruined face a taunting mask of hate.

Spike froze; and then Buffy flung herself forward, grasping Bertrand's stake....Dru screamed as all three of them went down.

Spike yelled and fought frantically to reach them; but Aletta's minions had reentered the fray; he battered them down one by one, but still they kept coming.

Bertrand had the stake right against Dru's heart- Buffy's tiny hand on his wrist the only thing holding it back...

Then Angel stood above them...for what seemed like a century to Spike, nobody moved.

Angel's boot kicked the stake out of Bertrand's hand- toward Spike. He snatched it out of the air, and thrust it through Aletta's heart.

There was a single shattering scream as she disintegrated. The remaining minions panicked, trying to flee.

Angel snapped Bertrand's neck, while Buffy pulled Drusilla to her feet.

Buffy glanced at him. "Spike, she's okay. She..."

He caught her slim shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head; but then Angel was there. Wasting no words, he scooped her up.

"Buffy!" he gasped, cradling her against him.

"Angel?" she asked uncertainly.

He gave her a faint smile. "I'm sorry, my love...sorry I left you, sorry I couldn't protect you! But I promise...from now on, we'll always be together."

Spike turned away, unwilling to witness more of their reunion.

Drusilla drifted over to him, having retrieved Miss Edith. "My Spike," she said dreamily," Miss Edith wants to leave this place. Can we go back to Brazil?"

"Yes, pet," he said automatically, hardly hearing her.

She began hummimg- louder and louder- spinning around the room in a whirl of flowing hair and floating dress, until he feared the sound would cause his mind to snap and he'd be as crazy as she was.

A hand on his arm, small and strong...the Slayer.

"Spike?" she looked up at him, almost shyly. "Angel says...he wants...to go back to L.A. Right now, I mean."

Of course he would. Of course he'd want to take her away. Spike studied her carefully...but she was looking nervously at Angel.

Well, why not? What were three magical nights in San Francisco, compared to the three years she'd spent loving Angel?

"So, you're off then?" he said, keeping his voice casual.

She glanced at the still-whirling Drusilla. "Are you..."

"I've got Dru back; that's all that matters," Spike said loudly.

"Buffy!" Angel called impatiently. "It's getting late- let's get going. Cordelia will be worried."

Still she lingered; and Spike knew suddenly that he couldn't bear to watch her go. He reached out one finger and just touched the Chinese charm at the base of her throat.

"Take care of yourself, Slayer."

Deliberately he turned and strolled off to Dru.

She stopped spinning. "Spike?"

He forced himself to smile at her reassuringly. "I'm here, pet."

When he finally glanced back over his shoulder, Buffy and Angel were gone.

Behind him, on the bed, was the pink kimono she'd worn. When he'd picked it up he could still detect the vanilla scenrt that clung to her skin.

The little amber dragon she'd named Won Ton was on the nightstand...and her silly paper parasol was propped in the corner.

How could one small girl impress herself so thoroughly on a place, in such a brief span?

"Stop it, you bloody fool," Spike said aloud. "She's not for you...accept it, and move on."

Move on where?

He couldn't seem to decide; couldn't focus on anything but this damned aching hole in his heart whenever he thought of her.

And him.

The two of them, together.

Dru had known.

"Spike," she'd said softly, "You aren't coming back to Brazil."

No point in lying. "No, ducks."

She cocked her head to one side, studying him intently. "You're going back there. To the hellmouth."

"That's right, Dru." He kept his voice as calm and even as though they were discussing the weather.

The glitter died in her dark eyes. They were, for one moment, entirely lucid.

"Goodbye, my Spike."

"Goodbye, my princess." He felt a curious sense of pain that there time together was at an end.

Just like his time with Buffy...those golden nights in the Bay City.

Drusilla smiled sweetly, forgivingly, and reached out to cup his face. Then her hand curved, the French-manicured nails changing to talons to rake the not-yet-healed wound left by Aletta.

Spike didn't bother to pull away; he merely caught her wrist, holding her away from him. Dru leaned forward and licked at the drops of blood.

"Time to go," she sing-songed. "Come along, Miss Edith."

Then she too was gone. And he was left all alone.

Spike walked out of the club, pulling his leather duster closely about him. He lit a cigarette. In the distance down Van Ness Avenue, he fancied he could see Angel's car. He began to walk faster, but of course it had vanished long before he could reach it.

Rain came then- as the prevalent Bay mist became a drenching downpour.

Spike kept walking.

Only the approaching dawn drove him to shelter.

But he should never have come back here to the flat.

Being here without her...he wondered whether it was too late to find another place to spend the day. Probably was.

In one impulsive gesture, he picked up the amber dragon and hurled it against the wall!

The sound of the breaking shattered him inside as well...he rushed over, but there were too many pieces, he could never...couldn't, ever, ever...pick them up again.

Spike's shoulders started to shake...he sank slowly to his knees amid the wreckage, burying his head in his hands, and sobbed aloud.

He never heard the door open...or the creak of the wooden floorboards.

He never noticed her gasp of shock...or her eyes when she saw him.

But he felt her arms close around him....oh yes, he felt that!

His head jerked up; and he stared at her in astonishment.

"Buffy," he whispered.his hand reached out, tentatively, to touch her face. "I thought...you'd gone."

Her eyes, too, were wet with tears; but she managed a weak smile just before she leaned to kiss him.

"No, Spike," he heard her murmur.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

The End

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