Becoming Me

Alright, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the delay, but I think there are fewer typos than usual. Anyway, special thanks to Richard, my new proofreader!

(also, sorry about the wonky paragraph spacing :( )

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: see chapter 1


28: MORE OR LESS

Her patrols had changed. It was like something Giles had tried to
teach her – "Use your instincts, Buffy, not your eyes." Before,
patrols had been nightly rounds of drudgery, a frustrated girl who had
a million things she'd rather be doing wandering through graveyards
and hoping to spot a vamp.

Now they were games. Not that she'd admit it to anyone, but she found
herself enjoying her patrols. Now she was tuned to the sounds and
movements of the night. Instead of feeling like a schoolgirl in a
graveyard, she felt like a panther, crouching in the shadows as it
expertly stalks its prey. It was exhilarating. She enjoyed how going
out to patrol at night made a small, unsettled part of her feel at
ease, like listening to really good music. The only thing she didn't
enjoy was thinking about what all of this meant about her.

"Ouch!"

"Wil! You okay?" Willow had opted to come along to keep Buffy company.
As long as the redhead didn't notice Panther Buffy, the Slayer was
glad to have her.

"Um, yeah. I just stubbed my toe on a gravestone."

Grinning in spite of herself, Buffy walked over to Willow and sat on a
grave marker. "C'mon. We'll sit for a while before we keep going."

"Buff, I don't want to, you know, hold you up - " At Buffy's stern
look, Willow closed her mouth and sat on the grass.

"Hold that thought," Buffy told her. And the Slayer vaulted over
Willow's head to land face-to-face with an angry looking vampire.

He growled. Buffy pouted. "What, you don't have some lame death threat
for me?" He growled once more and dove for Buffy. The Slayer nimbly
dodged and kicked the toe of her boot into his abdomen. "Aw, come on!
I have all these witty come backs, and talking to you is like talking
to a brick wall. A really ugly, bumpy brick wall." Buffy could hear
Willow laughing.

The even angrier-looking vampire hurled Buffy into the wall of a
crypt. She fell to the ground and hopped back on her feet. "C'mon. Say
something! Say, 'Die, Slayer!' It's a classic."

"Die, Slayer," growled the vampire with feeling, as he lunged for
Buffy again. Buffy dodged several blows to the face, panting with
exertion and excitement. Finally, as her adversary reached out to pull
her close enough to bite, she flipped him over her shoulder and into a
gravestone. Buffy rushed over and drove the stake deep into his chest,
feeling the solid body explode into a shower of dust.

"Wow. You really kicked his ass!" said Willow as Buffy returned to her
seat. Buffy grinned with poorly-hidden pride.

"So, um, Buffy? You're seeing Scott tomorrow night, right?"

Buffy turned and smiled at Willow. "Dinner and a show." She laughed
lightly. "It feels so…nice, to be with someone normal, you know?
Especially after…you know, the Angel thing."

"Yeah. Um…So, when's the Scott thing tomorrow?"

"6:30," said Buffy gleefully. "Movie's at 7, and then dinner. I guess
that's good, so during dinner we have something to, like, talk about?"
At Willow's frown Buffy defended, "No…it's just…I like him, you know,
but I don't know him very well. And the biggest things in my life –
vamps, demons, slaying…they're things I can't share with him."

After a long pause, Willow agreed, "Yeah…At least with Oz I can…yeah."

Willow frowned, and continued. "That's the thing about being a Slayer,
living on a Hellmouth…things like dating and stuff are hard enough,
but the minute you add in demons and prophecies and dying…" she made a
crashing plane sound. "It's kind of like, you're lucky if just one
thing goes right, for at least a little while…"

Buffy nodded. She sat still, barely rustling, and enjoyed the sounds
of the night and the feel of the cool air. After a while, she said,
"Well, ready to go again?"

Willow checked her colorful watch. "Um, Buff? It's kinda late. I think
my mom's gonna be wanting me home. It's a school night, you know, you
should probably wrap things up yourself."

"School night, shmool night, I say. And I think, for once, Giles might
agree with me. As much as he loves school, he appreciates my 'sacred
calling'." Buffy made a face. Then she energetically hugged Willow
goodnight.

"Hey, Buff…" asked Willow gently. "How you holdin' up? You were kinda
down before, but now you seem…"

"I'm fine. Honestly, the whole running-away thing, over the
whole…thing…Over it. I'm good. Fine." She grinned.

She looks fine, Willow thought, But I don't know…

Buffy and Willow waved to each other again, just as Willow was leaving
the cemetery. Then Buffy returned to her work, a solitary figure
prowling with feline grace.

Is 'fine' enough?

* * * * *
She had the feeling she'd been there before. The trees leaned and
twined together in a gracefully unique way, their limbs reaching out
to her like the outstretched hand of a stranger who was once a
childhood friend. Then Buffy remembered something she saw; she wasn't
sure what had triggered it but suddenly she realized where she was.

It's so overgrown, she thought. Just a few months and the
walkway to the mansion is almost completely hidden. After ensuring
herself that she was alone in the untamed garden, Buffy took a few
cautious steps down the narrow path but froze when she heard a twig
snap. The gaps in the trees seemed like gaping mouths, leering at her.

"This is stupid," she said out loud. "I'm the Slayer." Repeating this
to herself like a mantra, Buffy boldly shoved her way through the
overgrown vegetation until suddenly she reached a clearing and the
mansion towered beneath the dark sky. The door stood open, the way she
had left it.

She and Spike.

He didn't have a soul, she assured herself. He wasn't Angel
anymore. Angel was gone.

Buffy realized that her perverse curiosity had carried her to the open
door, despite her mind being filled with irrational fear.

For a brief moment, the quiet voice of introspection managed to fight
its way to the surface. What are you afraid of?

Buffy stepped through the doorway. Through an opening in the
architecture she could see the courtyard, and she knew that just past
it lay Acathla.

Is it Angel?

Buffy's eyes retraced their steps, hers and Angelus's as they dueled,
as he expertly tried to break her down. She stepped down into the
courtyard, feeling like a ghost in the moonlit grounds of a deserted
castle.

There was that room, the one where the final moments of the fight had
gone down. Where the vortex of Acathla's mouth had opened and closed,
and the things that had happened after.

Or Spike?

"Didn't count on findin' you here, pet," purred a soft voice in her
ear.

Buffy started and turned around, taking a step back. "Then how did you
find me, Spike?"

"Well…" His eyes roamed the courtyard. "Must be fate then, right pet?
Fate that I heard you introducin' yourself to the garden out there."

Buffy felt herself blush. "I wasn't…Anyway. What were you doing out
there, then?"

"Looking for you."

Buffy sighed in exasperation and walked away from Spike, her back
turned to him. "You can't just keep leaving and coming back, whenever
it suits you."

"Last time, you were the one that left, pet." Spike closed the
distance once more, standing so close to Buffy that she could smell
the finer scents of Spike; his hair gel, the Laundromat's free
detergent, his skin. "You did miss me," he whispered into her neck.

The air he blew onto her skin sent a shiver down to her core. "Yeah…"
she admitted. "I have your…" In the closet…I sleep with it… "I
need you," she whispered.

He smirked. "I know." He trailed his fingers down her waist, her hips,
her thighs, and up again to their apex, pressing through her jeans.
Buffy's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't see Spike's face,
she had no idea what he was thinking or doing, and it made each second
of each erratic touch seem to last even longer.

Suddenly Spike shifted his hands and hoisted Buffy into his arms. She
twisted around to look at his face, and watched him as he carried her
through the mansion and out into the overgrown garden outside. Spike
dropped Buffy down on the wild lawn and crawled over her. She ran her
hands over his shoulders, his back, felt the ridges and valleys of his
muscles change as he moved on top of her. She realized there were
details she'd overlooked, the other times they'd made love. Only, not
love. They weren't in love. The other times they'd slept
together.

Spike pressed his hand over her jeans-clad sex, and just the touch
accelerated her breathing. He increased the pressure, moving his hand
in a circular motion, pressing so hard he couldn't believe he wasn't
hurting her. Buffy arched her hips into his hand.

"Too many clothes," she panted. She worked Spike's tight shirt off of
his shoulders, pulling it over his arms as he tried to grasp her arms,
her breasts, her hair. Spike captured Buffy's lips in a bruising kiss
and reached down to pop the button of her jeans, pushing her jeans and
her panties off in the same motion. He teased her clit with one hand
as he helped her wriggle out of her shirt with the other.

Buffy tried to angle her hips upward and impale herself upon his cock,
but Spike pulled back. "Ah-ah-ah, Slayer. Be patient," he said with a
smirk. Kneeling above her, he reached his arms around and unhooked her
bra in a single fluid movement.

"It's been so long since I've seen you, I'd forgotten what a jerk you
are," she pouted.

This only made Spike's smirk grow. "Better watch what you say 'bout
me, Slayer. I can make you regret it." He slid backwards towards her
feet, bringing his face between her legs. Still smirking, he blew
lightly at her pussy, not giving enough contact to be satisfying, but
just enough to be agonizingly stimulating.

"Spike!" Buffy hissed, her cheeks pink with a mixture of embarrassment
and delight. "Get up here and kiss me."

Spike licked a trail from her naked stomach up between her breasts,
making her gasp. She felt the cold air evaporating the moisture and
wrapped her legs around Spike, pulling his warmth to her. Spike bent
down and passionately gave her her kiss.

Spike moved his hands from her hair to her hips and held her still while
he pushed his cock into her wet folds. Buffy groaned with ecstasy.

"See, you missed me," he informed her.

"Wasn't up for…debate," she replied, feeling their flesh rubbing
together with the delightful rhythm. "You miss me?" She fixed him with
her seductive gaze.

"I came back for you," he told her, and he began to wonder if it
wasn't at least partly the truth. Buffy moaned wordlessly, thrusting
her hips frantically as she submerged herself in the feeling.

Watching Buffy's face twist up in pleasure, and trying to think
straight despite fiery sensations in his cock, Spike let himself give
in to instinct. He bent over and brought his lips to the skin of
Buffy's neck, licking the skin, abusing it with a rough kiss.

Buffy felt Spike's entire body change to be tenser, stronger, more
ferocious, and in one ecstatic second she felt his fangs sink into her
neck, drawing deep sips of blood. The feeling heightened her
perception of everything else, transforming pleasure that she could
barely contain into wild passions far past her comprehension; she dug
her nails into his back and her knees into his sides. Clenching her
own muscles tight, she felt his thrust rasp against her in a way
deeper than any of the others and the wonderful burning feeling pushed
her over theedge, making her scream a feral, wordless cry.

The blood coating his throat felt glowing, as if it were making
Spike's insides shine past his skin, illuminating everything, burning
his brain. Each time he drank her blood the sensation seemed more
wonderful. Each sip of Buffy's blood made it even more superior than
an ordinary human's blood, each drop made him crave increasingly more.
Keeping his teeth buried in her flesh, Spike thrust in a few more
quick times until he came. His body spent but his mind still racing,
Spike pulled out of Buffy and lay down on his back beside her.

"Wow," she said.

"Yeah. 'Wow.'" His blue eyes stared at the stars. "Sorry, luv, I
don't speak Chinese," he remembered saying. Maybe I shouldn't
have drained that Slayer. Maybe I should just have taken a little,
like I do with Buffy. Slayer still would've known I'd won..."

"What's that?" asked Buffy quickly, sitting up on her elbows. "I heard
something. Big."

Spike frowned and squinted into the shadowy tangle of trees and
bushes. He sniffed a few times, and his frown deepened. He turned back
to Buffy, his face vamped out. She thought it looked particularly
possessive and predatory. "It's nothing. You should be getting home,
Slayer."

"I'm not done patrolling," she protested. It was sweet to be looking
out for her, but honestly!

"Yeah, you are. Go home." Buffy stepped backward, feeling her bare
feet on her pile of clothes. Spike's tone was cruel and commanding.

"Fine!" she snapped, dressing as fast as she could, ignoring her
underwear, bra, and shoes, and holding them in her hand. "I've had it
with you! You can't just summon me or get rid of me at your whim,
Spike! You can't decide what's happening because it's what you
want! You walked out of my life in LA, Spike, and you can
fucking stay out of it!"

She met his gaze coldly, daring him to tell her to stop. "That's fine
with me, Slayer," he drawled in reply. "Don't need to get back in your
life, so long as I get back in your pants." He smirked. "Now go home."

Buffy stared at him blankly, her mouth hanging open until she
remembered to close it tight. She stared at him, into his golden eyes,
looking for something and finding only the vampire. Then she pressed
her lips together and stalked off, as fast as she could without
running. Until she was far enough away, she held her breath, in case
it sounded like she was crying.

Ruthlessly shoving any guilty feelings to a remote corner of his
brain, Spike pulled on his pants and began his hunt for the other
vampire.