Spike knew who the Slayer was as soon as he entered the club. The Anointed One said he hated the girl, but Spike did not think she looked so tough. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of the black leather duster he wore as he scanned the crowd.

He had taken the duster from the last Slayer he had met. And killed. She had been the second Slayer Spike had taken down, over twenty years ago now, and Spike thought it was about time he bagged his third. He had waited too long in between the first two and had almost forgotten the euphoria that washed over him during that fight and afterward. Of course, Drusilla had not been as sick then as she was now.

He raked a hand through his hair, which was bleached to a shade of blonde that looked far better on him than it ever had on Billy Idol as he scanned the room. The Slayer was far nicer to look at than the first two he encountered had been. All business those two had been and Spike could tell that this girl did not have business on her mind tonight. The first two had probably never set foot in a club like this.

He had been surprised when the Anointed One had mentioned the Slayer hanging around such a place, but figured perhaps vampire activity brought her to the club. He had been mistaken, because it was obvious that vampires and slaying did not seem to be a matter of import to her at the moment.

She was dancing with another girl and some guy who probably thought he had a shot at making time with her. As obvious as it was to tell the whelp wanted to be with the Slayer it was just as obvious that the Slayer, while perhaps with friends, was alone. She was the Slayer, a life of loneliness was her lot and he had plans on ending that lot for good sometime soon. But first, he needed to get to know this Slayer he thought as the band kicked into a song that Spike found he liked. "Here goes nothing," he muttered and approached the trio. "May I cut in?" he asked, emphasizing his British accent.

It was fairly easy for him to get what he wanted with his accent and his eyes, he had been told both could make the most unwilling woman willing. Not that Spike typically wanted the unwilling to change their tune, the unwilling ones were always a good time as far as Spike was concerned. Some of the best times he and Drusilla had shared over the years were with the unwilling.

The Slayer's red headed friend regarded him and after apparently realized he was asking the Slayer and not her went back to dancing with the whelp. A goodie goodie that one was; though Spike sensed that she had a wild side that would be fun to explore. He was not the bloke to explore it, at least not tonight. He had a Slayer within his sights, and could not just smell her blood but taste it too. He offered the Slayer his most charming smile when she realized that he was talking to her.

"There's no one for you to cut in on," she said haughtily.

"Is that right?" Spike asked, arching his scarred eyebrow to emphasize his faux surprise. He had figured out she was alone, sure, but no reason to let her know that.

She regarded him intensely and for a moment Spike thought he was busted. The slip of a dress she had on left little to the imagination, so he did not see how she could possibly have a stake on her but he was not going to let his guard down. "You're new."

"I am that, luv."

She seemed to contemplate this and came to the conclusion Spike wanted her to come to. "So are we dancing or what?" she asked and Spike could not help but smirk.

"Sure, luv, that's what I asked you to do," he said, closing the distance between them cautiously. He would laugh until he turned to dust if she staked him. He had killed his first two Slayers without any preparation. So why should this Slayer be any different? He should have sent one of the minions out for a snack so that he could watch the Slayer in action. Her actions on the dance floor were not what he had come here to observe.

"So where are you from?" she asked, her eyes green with just a hint of hazel in them watching him with something akin to curiosity. She had a hint of shyness to her that Spike sensed was not fake, but yet knowing what she did, who she was, Spike could see past that shyness, though he forced himself not to.

"I'm from England originally."

"You come from England to end up in Sunnydale?"

"Sure, baby, is that a problem?"

She scowled at him, apparently luv was okay but baby was not. "I guess not," she said coquettishly. He was careful not to let her get too close so she did not become aware of the fact he had no heartbeat. He was toying with her, telling himself that he might just learn something useful doing things this way. If she had defeated The Master she was a worthy adversary, Spike could at least acknowledge that.

"Are you from here then?" he asked.

"No, I just moved here in the spring. I'm from LA."

"That's quite a change."

"Yeah," she said. Spike found that one word gave away a lot, because he knew who and what she was. She was not overly happy about being here in Sunnydale that much was apparent. Who could blame her really? She did not seem to be too thrilled with carrying the burden of being the Slayer either, which was good since Spike would be relieving her of that burden shortly.

"You dance well, luv."

"It's what I live for."

"A girl like you shouldn't be dancing alone, though."

"I'm not," she said, offering him a coy smile. "Anymore."

"No, I don't suppose you are."

The song finished and Spike did not want to push his luck. He held her hand politely, a gesture left over from his human days, and looked into her eyes. "Thanks for the dance."

"You're leaving?" she asked and Spike saw disappointment in her eyes.

"Maybe I'll be back," he said before releasing her hand and walking away. He met the stare of one of the Anointed One's minions and scowled at the questioning glance given him. "You and the others can go on back to the factory, I've got things under control here for tonight."

"I can see what you've got under control."

"It doesn't matter how I go about getting the job done so long as I do it, and I will." With that he decided to see about a spot of dinner since there were so many options available to him here.

******

Spike watched from the balcony as the Slayer entered the Bronze and scanned the crowd. She apparently did not find who she was looking for and he watched through hooded eyes as she approached the bar and got a drink. Drink in hand she turned to face the room, toying with her drink's straw.

He was not sure why he had come back tonight. He had left the other night intent on not playing any more games. Dru had maintained that the Slayer was in a dark place and that she wanted her dead, which was fine with Spike and went well with his plans to kill the Slayer. So long as Dru did not see him dancing with the Slayer or growing hard at thoughts of the Slayer he would be okay. He left the factory without taking any of the Annoying One's minions with him. Spike did not trust them and knew the feeling was mutual.

So it was that he was alone when she approached him on the balcony. He knew she was coming to him when she began ascending the steps. He remembered her scent from the night before, vanilla with a hint of pear intermingled with the distinct scents of woman and the outdoors, and one that was solely the Slayer's, this Slayer's. No doubt she had been out doing her Slayer duties before coming to the Bronze. "Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself," he said with barely a glance in her direction.

"So, you like the place, huh? It doesn't seem your style."

He arched a brow at her question, surprised she had even given him thought. Curious also that he cared she had. "What makes you think you know anything about my style?"

"I don't, you just seem older than most of the people who come here. You're not a high school student."

"No," he said with a light laugh. That was an understatement. "I'm not a high school student."

"Do you go to college here?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm even too old to be in college."

"You're never too old for college," the Slayer said her tone snippy.

"I suppose you're right, pet. You all alone tonight? No friends even?"

"They'll be meeting me eventually. I'm a little early."

"Get done with your homework early? Or did Mommy Dearest just get snockered earlier than usual so you could sneak out of the house?"

"No. There's no school tomorrow. And besides, I can go out whenever I want to," she said defiantly. Spike wondered if the bint even knew what snockered meant.

"Is that right?"

"Yeah," she said simply, a little less defiantly.

"How is it you manage that?"

"I just sneak out my bedroom window," she said casually with a shrug.

"No offense, but I haven't seen much in this town that's worth sneaking out for."

"Well, no I suppose there's not to someone as old as you are. But I come here a lot."

"A regular bad girl, are you?" he quipped.

"Rude much? No wonder you're here by yourself."

"I wasn't being rude, luv. I like my girls bad, so it was a compliment."

"Oh," she said with a pout and took a sip of her drink through the straw.

Spike stepped up behind her and placed a hand over hers, taking hold of the cup she held. The front of his body pressed against the back of her well toned and warm one. Spike closed his eyes for a moment, taking in her warmth wishing he could bottle it and take it home for use later. "Care to dance, pet?" he whispered.

He heard her swallow hard and her heart rate pick up when his hand touched hers. "The song will be over by the time we get down there," she said after a brief pause.

"Who said anything about going down there?" he asked in a low voice against her ear. He placed his free hand at her hip and began to move. It took her a few beats, but soon she began to move with him, against him was more appropriate. As she had said the other night, she lived to dance and Spike knew she would not be able to resist. His hand slid from her hip to her upper thigh. "We don't need a dance floor, luv."

He smiled wickedly when he heard her sharp intake of breath. "Someone's going to see us," she whispered.

He stepped even closer. "Do you care, luv," he asked softly. He ran the palm of his hand lower to get to the bare skin just above her knee. He was being incredibly foolish, taking a huge risk that she would figure out he was that which she fought on a nightly basis.

She did not respond to his question with words, instead placing her hand on top of his at her abdomen. She moved with him to the beat of the music and Spike had to wonder if she had any idea how sexy she was. Despite being the Slayer, Spike suspected she was fairly innocent when it came to things that did not involve hunting demons.

Against his better judgment, his mouth found her ear and he began placing kisses against it. She apparently approved of this because he felt her bottom press against him in time with his tongue twirling her earlobe seductively. She moaned softly and Spike drifted from her ear to the side of her neck, avoiding the pulse point there. It was not lost on him that he could have killed her right there and then. He had her under his spell and he could have dropped his human disguise and imbedded his fangs into her without her even noticing what he had done until it was too late.

He felt her stiffen and she pulled away before he was prepared for it so he could not stop her. Suddenly, she was facing him, her hazel eyes cloudy with arousal yet wide with uncertainty. He could hear her heart pounding away against her chest and felt rather proud of himself for accomplishing that.

"I've got a boyfriend," she said.

"I've got a girlfriend, what of it? What they don't know can't hurt them."

Suddenly, Spike sensed a familiar presence and glanced around the darkened club trying to place who or what he was picking up on. He scanned the crowd with ease, but saw nothing. He looked in her direction and she was scanning the crowd as well. His eyes met hers, deep blue met hazel and he saw knowledge there and knew the game was up.

"You're a vamp," the Slayer said.

"Right you are, pet," he said with a sardonic grin, shoving his hands in the duster's pockets after he had taken out a cigarette.

"Who are you?"

"You'll find out on Saturday, luv."

"What happens on Saturday," she asked.

"It's when I kill you," he said with a wink before shoving her into a passerby causing their drink to spill over the front of her top. It allowed him the distraction to make his escape with ease. He was not ready to meet her on the battlefield yet, he needed to watch her while slaying a couple of times first.

He left the Bronze, his eyes scanning the crowded club one last time as the feeling of familiarity washed over him again. He expected to see Drusilla, but she was not there. He glanced at the balcony and saw the Slayer beginning her quick descent of the stairs toward him and decided Drusilla or not, it was time to go.

~The End~

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com