Kathryn sat with her head against the back of her couch, staring at the ceiling. Apparently, she must have looked a bit irritated or depressed, because her brother came over and sat beside her, and stared at her for a little while.

“You okay? Giles didn’t . . . say something to piss you off, did he?”

She looked at Kyle, then shook her head. “No. He just dropped me off is all. After we talked about training and whatever.”

“When will you be training?”

“Well, right now, only on Tuesdays and Fridays, but he said I can train more if I want, and that if he feels I’m slipping or something, he will reschedule. Oh, and Spike and I talked today.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

“I called him a murdering psychopath.”

“Not very well, then.” She looked away from her brother, not wanting to see his sympathetic expression any more. “Look, Kathryn . . . I will be the first to admit I don’t like Spike. In fact, I hate him. But . . . you were happy when you were with him. I get you’re pissed off and you have every right to be, but we all lied to you. I mean, I hate his guts and all, but . . . it’s not about me.”

She scoffed and sat up straighter so that her head wasn’t on the back of the couch anymore. “What? You cannot be serious. Out of everybody I expected you to understand. It’s not about the fact he lied to me, although that really pisses me off too, it’s the fact he kills people for the fun of it. If he didn’t have that chip in his head, do you honestly think we’d be alive right now? No. Don’t you get that? Am I the only one who sees the problem with the fact he kills people?”

“No, I totally get that. Really. I wouldn’t want to date someone who killed people, either. I’m just saying that he can’t do that now, and I think he . . . really cared about you, and you were happier when you were always with him.”

“It’s only been a few days, Kyle. Of course I’m still upset! I slept in the same bed as a guy who has killed two slayers before, and I kissed him, and you expect me to get over it in a few days?”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all--I’m just saying that no matter what you do, I’ll support you. If you want to forget he exists, then I’m cool with that--I’m just saying that, well . . . you gotta do what makes you happy, okay? No matter what that is.”

Kathryn just sighed. She didn’t want to talk about this with her brother. In fact, she didn’t want to talk about it at all. She didn’t even want to think about it.

“Well, anyway, I’m off to work. If anything comes up, you call me, okay?”

She gave him a mock salute as he got off of the couch and left the house.

She really hadn’t expected that from Kyle. If anything, she would have thought he’d give her high fives for calling Spike a murderer. It must have been so hard for Kyle to just sit back and allow her to become friends with someone he hated. And she couldn’t even be mad at him or anyone else for that matter because they had all told her that perhaps it wasn’t best to get attached. They had all tried to prevent them from becoming friends. She’d been so stupid. How obvious did it have to be in order for her to get it? They had told her several times that she shouldn’t get attached and they had all expressed their concerns. And she had assumed they were all testy about their relationship because Spike was a “pillock” as Rupert had put it. She felt so stupid--how many times did she snap at Rupert and Buffy because they were actually trying to prevent the situation she was in now?

Kathryn tried to watch TV, but nothing was on. She considered doing her math homework, but figured that it could wait until later. She tried watching a romantic comedy because she needed something to laugh over, although it ended up being more romantic than comedy, which only reminded her of Spike. Of course, it didn’t help her that Dracula with Gary Oldman was on, either. She settled for watching some brainless TV show that had flat characters and was written poorly. It didn’t help that the male lead was blonde (although he didn’t really resemble Spike in any way) and when he started kissing a girl with dark hair, she decided to watch South Park.

Kathryn would have assumed that at least South Park was safe, but the entire time she watched it, she kept thinking that Spike would have liked it. Still, it was pretty funny, so she didn’t change the channel.

There were a few knocks on the door. Sighing, she got off of the couch and walked over to the door, opening it.

“Willow?”

“Hey,” she greeted cheerily, smiling widely. Willow was standing beside a girl that Kathryn didn’t recognize. The other girl was very womanly and blonde. Kathryn searched her memory to see if perhaps they’d been introduced before and she had just forgot, but when nothing came up, she figured it was someone new. Willow held up a plastic bowl with a lid on it. “I brought cookies.”

“Uh . . . thanks?”

“You look like you were expecting someone else.” Willow’s cheery grin faltered.

“No. I actually wasn’t expecting anyone at all. Hence, the uh . . . surprise. So who’s this?”

“This is Tara,” she introduced. “Tara, this is Kathryn.”

“Hi.” Tara waved feebly, then ducked her head and tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

Kathryn smiled at her, then stepped back and opened the door wider so they could come in.

Kathryn shut the door. “So, uh . . . what’s up?” she asked, mainly because she couldn’t think of any reason why Willow would come knocking on her door.

“Giles told me you were having a bad day. He said that you came over and you seemed a little . . . off. So, Tara and I stopped by. With cookies. Doesn’t matter how sad you are, cookies are always yummy.”

Smiling, Kathryn led them into the kitchen. Willow placed the container on the table and took off the lid. “Voila. Made ‘em myself you know. Baking always makes me feel less guilty. Cure guilt by baking. That’s what my mom always told me. Actually, that’s a lie, my mom told me to try to develop talents that weren’t, you know, house-wifey ‘cause we didn’t have Women’s Rights just so I could spend all my days cooking for my husband, so . . . But still, I like doin’ it.”

“Uh . . . guilty why?” she asked as she grabbed a cookie, which was still soft and a little warm.

Willow sat beside Tara. “Oh, you know, the whole lying-to-you thing. I don’t do well with lying. Makes me jumpy.”

Kathryn glanced at Tara, not knowing just how much she should say with her around.

Willow must have noticed her glance, because she smiled. “Oh, no, don’t worry about Tara--she already knows all about the demon-y vampire stuff. Were you in Sunnydale when the Gentleman came?”

“Huh?”

“You know, when nobody could talk. Were you here then?”

Kathryn shook her head, then bit into the soft cookie. Willow, apparently, was a master chef, because the cookies were delicious. Then again, her father didn’t exactly bake often, so she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had homemade cookies.

“No, but I heard about the laryngitis outbreak on the news and how you had to be quarantined. That sucks. I hate laryngitis. There were some kids at my school who thought you were faking. We were gonna move here, but we had to wait a few days for you guys to get better. You know, because of the quarantine.”

“Right, but it wasn’t laryngitis, it was the Gentleman. It’s these really creepy float-y guys, and they took our voices away because screaming made their heads explode. Anyway, Tara was attacked by one. So she knows about that sorta stuff. Plus, she’s a witch, like me. She makes stuff float.”

“Oh. That’s cool.” She searched her memory for a time any of the Scoobies mentioned Tara or another witch besides Willow, and nothing came up. “But really, Willow, you shouldn’t feel guilty. You’re not a mass murdering psycho who gets off and killing and maiming.”

“No, but we all knew that he was, and . . . and we didn’t tell you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to deal with his consequences. You all tried to warn me to stay away from him, and I didn’t, ‘cause I thought you guys were all just being assholes.”

Willow shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I never tried to get you away from him. You were good for him. And he made you happy. That’s the important thing. I mean, not exactly a, you know, conventional relationship, but . . . it’s your happiness that matters.”

Kathryn decided to take a bite out of her cookie and ignore Willow.

“Buffy didn’t know Angel was a vampire at first either.”

What was it with everyone? Why did everybody feel the need to talk to her about Spike? “Yeah, but Angel had a soul. He actually felt bad about all the stuff he did. Spike doesn’t.”

“Well, Angel didn’t always have a soul. Like, after Buffy and Angel fell in love, he lost his soul and reverted back to Angelus, and Buffy had to kill him.”

“Could you not compare me to Buffy please?” Kathryn snapped. “I understand that my pain isn’t nearly as bad as hers. I get that Buffy has a far worse life than me and everything I’ve ever done she’s done it too but only better. I get that my life isn’t the worst in existence, but I have every right to be upset. So, I’m sorry my pain isn’t legitimate enough for you.”

Willow’s green eyes shimmered and she frowned. Something about Willow’s eyes made her emotions so easily read, and guilt hit Kathryn suddenly.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t . . . I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Willow shook her head and attempted a smile, but her eyes betrayed the cheer. “No, it’s fine, really. You’ve had a lot on your mind and I . . . I was being unkind.”

Kathryn shook her head. “No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry, it’s just . . . I shouldn’t have done that. You made me cookies, and I . . . it’s just everybody keeps talking to me about this whole Spike thing. Even Spike.”

“That’s not what I mean. Thing is, well . . . When you’re friends with Buffy . . . it’s always about Buffy. It’s not a bad thing, and you kinda hafta get used to it. No matter what you’re feeling, what she feels takes precedence, you know? I guess I just . . . I shouldn’t have done that; sorry.”

Kathryn felt her cheeks burn. She felt ashamed. Willow had come, bearing cookies, with the intention of helping Kathryn, and she’d snapped at her for no real reason. She massaged her left temple. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just . . . I’m just being a bitch. There’s no excuse for it.”

“No, you had a rough weekend. I get you’re probably stressed.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess . . .” She glanced at Tara, who was looking around the kitchen, as if trying to memorize it. She felt even worse because she’d snapped at Willow in front of her friend. “So, uh . . . It’s nice to meet you, Tara,” she said wildly, just the change the subject.

Tara looked at Kathryn, their eyes meeting briefly, before she ducked her head. “Um . . . Yeah, it’s nice.” Tara let out a few, breathy laughs that seemed more nervous than amused.

“So . . . How do you know everyone?”

“Oh, um . . . I-I don’t.” She flashed a nervous, brief grin. “Just, um . . . just Willow.”

Well that made sense. It explained why she had never met Tara before. “Oh, well . . . How’d you meet Willow then?”

“Um . . . Wicca group? But, um . . . mostly she was with me when the Gentleman attacked me. She ha-has power that’s . . . she’s really powerful.”

Kathryn nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I hear. She got Spike and Buffy to get engaged.”

“Spike told you that?” Willow exclaimed.

Kathryn chuckled. “Yeah, he did, and if you can get those two to make out, then I wouldn’t doubt you’ve got a lot of power. ‘Cause . . . well, they really don’t like each other much.”

“She does. She’s very special.” Tara spoke with conviction, but when she noticed that Willow was smiling at her, she ducked her head and blushed.

“So . . . You’re good? We just stopped by to drop off the cookies . . . but if you want us to stay, we can.”

“Nah. I’m good. I’ve got math homework that I’ve been avoiding all night.”

Willow nodded then stood up, pushing her chair underneath the table properly. Tara stood as well, and she noticed Willow reached down and held her friend’s hand. “Um, but if you need someone to talk to, you can . . . uh, call me, if you like.”

Kathryn smiled and nodded at her, wondering if Willow was aware of the fact that Kyle had had her number ever since they’d moved in. Not because of Willow, but because he got Buffy’s number from Rupert. Willow must have known that, because Kyle had left a message on her machine the first time she met Spike.

When she heard Willow leave the house and shut the door behind her, she took another bite into the cookie. Willow was right--no matter the situation, cookies were still yummy.

The next few weeks were hell on Spike. First off, why Giles insisted on training Kathryn in the house was beyond him. Couldn’t they find an abandoned building somewhere, or wait until night and train outside? Did he have to do it there? Spike couldn’t sleep when he knew Kathryn was coming over to train, but he certainly couldn’t go out and stare at her and drool, could he?

Well, actually, he could, and he did. He would find excuses to go out and watch them train for a bit, pretending to ignore Kathryn’s presence just like she pretended to ignore his. He would quietly warm up a mug of blood in the microwave and watch her while he drank it slowly.

But what really irked him was knowing that Drusilla was still alive. Every night when he went out, he looked out for her. He didn’t go searching for her, but he kept his eyes peeled for her familiar frame. Any girl who even resembled Drusilla in the smallest bit caught his eye, and for a fleeting second he would think it was her, but then it would turn out to be some single mother trying to tell her kids to behave or someone else he didn’t really give a damn about.

Spike would have very much liked to search for her. He would have liked to go to the abandoned factory and look around its charred interior. He would love to stop by the mansion and call out for her. Truth was, though ,that he was afraid of what would happen if he did. How could he go begging Drusilla to come back to him when he was just a shell of his former self? He had a chip in his head, and he couldn’t be the vampire she deserved if he couldn’t kill and maim. Not only that, but the several times he’d gone crawling back to her in the past she’d told him she wasn’t interested anymore. He didn’t know if he could handle being rejected by her again and a part of him knew that if he showed up, she would tell him the same thing she had told him the last few times--that they could still be friends.

Every girl that passed, he wished was Drusilla just as much as he hoped that it wasn’t. He loved her. He loved her so much and he would give anything to get back with her . . . but if she still denied him, if she still just wanted to be friends, it would be too much with everything else that he was dealing with right now.

Plus there was the outright shame he felt at the fact he was neutered.

Instead Spike spent most of the night wandering around, going to the Bronze, going to Willy’s (but he was honestly thinking about stopping--Willy was being a greedy bastard at the moment and Spike obviously couldn’t beat him into giving him free blood) or going to the Fish Tank. He got his money from nicking it off strangers, or vamping it out and scaring them out of their money. Unlike the Bronze, he couldn’t nick beers off of others’ tables, but it wasn’t his money anyway and so he had no qualms about paying. Even the fact that Kyle worked there wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be--Kyle treated Spike like a random face in the crowd, and Spike repaid the favour. As far as anyone else was concerned, they didn’t know each other outside of the bar.

Currently, Spike was wandering through the cemetery, looking for something to kill. Nothing passed the time like a little violence.

“Ugh, not you,” he heard someone groan from behind him, and when he recognized the voice, his spirits lowered.

He turned around and scowled. “Slayer,” he greeted unpleasantly.

Buffy sighed, then lowered her stake. “Here I was, thinking that someone actually threatening was prowling the cemetery, and I find you instead.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, I am threatening.”

“Please, Spike. You weren’t even threatening before you had the chip; you certainly aren’t threatening now. What are you going to do? Throw idle promises of death my way? Oh, God, how will I ever survive that?”

“What? I was threatening without my chip!”

“Oh come on. How did all of our fights go? You put up a mediocre fight then scampered off like a puppy with its tail between its legs.”

Spike glared at her. “I’ll have you know, Slayer, that if it weren’t for your mother, I woulda killed you. I woulda bashed your head in and lapped up the blood. So don’t get all cocky with me, Miss--your mother is more threatening than you are.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “And what are you doing out here, then? Lurking?” she asked with faux cheeriness.

“I don’t lurk. That was your ex, remember?” Buffy’s disposition changed as it always did whenever he mentioned Angel. She was so predictable sometimes. “Speaking of, how is Angel lately? Know much about your Illinois Boy Toy?” he goaded, smirking when he saw her lips purse into a thin line.

“He's from Iowa. Oh, and for your information, Spike, what I do with my life is none of Angel’s concern.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, as much as I hate to cut our little chat short, I really must be off.” Spike turned around and started walking off, having no desire to be near the bint much longer.

“Off where? Moping at the Bronze?” she taunted.

Spike didn’t even bother to turn around. He simply lifted his hand and showed her the back of his first two fingers.

Honestly, he wasn’t even moping at the Bronze. Spike didn’t mope. Spike thought deeply about things that were bothering him, but he didn’t mope, and he didn’t brood. If Spike chose to think deeply about certain things that were bothering at the Bronze, then he had every right to.

It wasn’t until he was at the other side of the cemetery that he heard footsteps, and he groaned. Fine, if Buffy wanted to play a round of Taunt Spike, then so be it.

“Buffy, why don’t you just run along to Captain Shagalot and leave me alone?” he growled, turning around to face her.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. “Buffy’s here?”

Spike shifted his weight onto his other foot. Well. He hadn’t been expecting her. He wasn’t sure if he was glad or not.

“Er, yeah. Other side of the cemetery.” They stared at each other for a minute, and seeing as Spike really couldn’t think of anything to say, her turned on his heel and started walking off, digging in his duster pockets for a cigarette.

He lit up the cigarette and breathed the smoke into his dead lungs, then shook his head in frustration. He turned around and started walking towards her. He wasn’t about to let her go off and join Buffy. He wanted to talk to her. He’d been aching to talk to her for weeks, and the opportunity had presented itself--he wasn’t about to throw it away.

Although she was walking away, it only took a few long strides for him to be right behind her, and he grasped her shoulder. There was a sharp pain in his abdomen and he grunted out, doubling over. Kathryn spun around and used the momentum to hit him with a backhand across the face and he stumbled backwards.

When he righted his posture he saw Kathryn, hands covering her mouth. “Sorry!” she apologized, her voice muffled by her hands. “I--I saw you walk off and I--I thought you were a vampire; sorry!”

He scoffed and looked her over, offended by her remark. “Hey, watch it! I am a vampire, chip or not!”

She blinked a few times. “Oh. Right. I meant . . . You know, one that was trying to kill me.”

He nodded, forgiving her slip-up. “Okay then.”

She folded her arms over her chest, but apparently it wasn’t comfortable because she unfolded them again and scratched the side of her head, brown eyes sweeping the cemetery, but avoiding him. “Did you, uh . . . need to tell me something?”

He opened his mouth, trying to remember what he’d wanted to say, then realized that he hadn’t had anything to say in the first place, and had hoped something intelligent would fall out of his mouth seeing as he was being presented a chance to talk to her. “Oh . . . um, no, just . . . wanted to say hi . . .”

God, what an idiot. Spike could have smacked himself. That was it? That was what fell out of his mouth? God must truly hate him. He’d made such a big deal about grabbing her shoulder to turn her around, and that was all he had to say?

She blinked at him and waited for a moment, probably thinking he had something to add, even though he didn’t. “Oh. Well . . . ‘kay. Hi.” She waved feebly at him, waited a few more seconds for him to think of something to say, then turned around and started walking off, shaking her head.

Spike stood there for a second, mouth open slightly. “God, I’m an idiot,” he grumbled before sticking his cigarette in his mouth and walking away.

How stupid was he? He shouldn’t have bothered to talk to her at all. Not only was she going to hate him, but now she was going to think he was a pathetic loser who had forgotten how to talk.

He felt a hand on his arm and he stopped, smiling a little. He turned around and saw Kathryn, who stepped away from him, as if afraid to be standing too close to him. She was staring at him expectantly, but he had no idea why. He was just thankful and surprised she had come back to him.

“Well? Is there anything else you wanna say?” she asked.

“To be honest . . . I didn’t have anything to say before. Just . . . wanted to say something.” A slow smile crept over her features. “Yeah. You must think I’m a moron. Can’t even talk to a pretty girl without sounding like an idiot.”

“Pretty?” she repeated.

He had been hoping she’d catch that because it certainly wasn’t an accident he’d thrown that word in. He stepped closer to her, cocking his head to the side and grinning slightly. “Well, you know you are.” He reached forward to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek, but hesitated mere centimetres from her flesh, staring into her eyes. It was impossible to tell if she wanted him to touch her face or not--but she wasn’t staking him or shoving him away, so that had to count for something.

Instead of touching her face, though, he lowered his hand and tucked it underneath her chin, tilting her head up. Her hand twitched and he froze, expecting her to hit him. A second later he relaxed when he realized she wasn’t going to attack him. “You know you’re beautiful. Taunting me with your gaze. You think I don’t feel you staring at me? I can feel your eyes on me.” He barely spoke above a whisper, staring at her intensely, refusing to look away from her eyes.

He heard her take in a shaky breath and she barely licked her bottom lip and he tilted his head closer. “I’ve been starin’ at you, too . . . When you’re training . . . I can’t help but look . . . I think you know it, too. I think you like it.”

Her lips were parted, and he could feel her breath on his face. He leaned in, but she cleared her throat and stepped away from him so that he couldn’t kiss her.

He scoffed. “What did you want, then? Huh? You coulda just let me finish walkin’ off, but no, you grabbed my shoulder and you wanted to keep up a conversation.”

“Well it wasn’t an invitation to kiss me.”

“What did you want then, huh? Bloody tease.”

He narrowed her eyes at him, apparently offended at the remark he threw at her. “Just wanted to say hi,” she replied coldly, then turned around and stalked off.

A/N--Yeah, originally the scene between Spike and Buffy was a bit longer . . . but years of writing spuffy turned their interlude into massive flirting and an almost-kiss, so I deleted most of it. Le sigh. And yay for Tara!