title: switched on
chap 2: the meeting
author: devylish
fandom: BTVS
word count: 1286
category: romance/angst?/mystery?
Pairing: Buffy/Spike Spuffy eventually
Rating: M eventually pg /k now
Spoilers: None really
Summary: What if their situations were switched? Buffy the Vampire and Spike the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer: we all know I'm not joss. And joss is a god.
Note: Unbeta'd cuz… uh… I donts gots one…

switched on

"Might as well come out. Show yourself. We both know my senses are tingling like hell."

Sunnydale hadn't been living up to its name for the past few days. Instead, she'd been hiding beneath a cloak of grey woolen heat. The fog in and of itself didn't bother Spike – reminded him a bit of England.

No, it wasn't the fog by itself, it was what the fog did. Damn grey brought the Fangies out to play en masse. Happened every time. Gave the 'creatures of the night' a chance to stretch their wings during the daytime instead of just sleeping those hours away.

The fog therefore meant that Spike had to patrol for longer. Today, for instance, he'd already been out for two hours, and it wasn't quite 5p.m. yet.

Sighing, he stopped walking and reached into his jacket for his cigarettes and lighter. Shielding the flame from the afternoon breeze he lit the slender stick. Flicking the lighter shut, he began to walk again; calling out to his unknown companion at the same time. "Come out, come out, whoever you are. Not polite to follow a bloke and not show yourself to him."

From her side of the cemetery fence, Buffy kept pace with the platinum haired slayer; watching his graceful movements. He was slender – wiry – and smooth of motion. She curled up her nose slightly and sniffed; he smelled… he smelled oddly. Like leather, whiskey, cigarettes… the dust of countless vampires. And there was something else, some other odor that she couldn't quite identify that clung to him. Something not fully human.

Shaking her head to clear it of his scent, she decided she would learn more about her nemesis if she 'chatted' with him.

"Sorry Slayer, I've never been known for my politeness."

Spike half smiled, "Ah. Now we're getting somewhere. A voice to go with the tingle." He paused. "Well as you've already admitted you have problems being polite, I'll just let you know that it would truly be polite if you crossed the fence and came a little closer – just so I can see who I'm talking to. Or, if it would make things easier for you, I could come over to your side of the fence."

She laughed, "No. No, but thank you; I think we're fine just as we are."

They trudged along in silence a bit longer. Each on their own side of the cemetery fence; each feeling the other out with their senses.

"So, you're The Slayer, hmm?"

"Yeah. One and only. The Chose One, blah blah blah."

Buffy found herself laughing again. "Nice to know you're taking your role as humanities' savior seriously."

"The job I take seriously. The title? Not so much so."

Coming to the street corner before the vampire did, Spike turned and peered into the fog laden cemetery. All he could make out was a small form, perhaps five feet away from him. A smoky shadow in the grey air.

Halting a few feet away from the slayer, Buffy's amber eyes watched him, as he peered at her, through the metal bars and marble blocks that made up the cemetery fence.

"Tell you what Slayer, I'll let you see my face before we part ways today. But let's talk a bit more first." She began to walk again, and this time, it was he who followed her around the border of the fence.

Spike teased, "And you said you weren't polite!"

"Really I'm not, I'm a bad, bad girl." She grinned, "But that doesn't mean that I don't know how to get what I want."

"I bet you do, Luv. I bet you do." Dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on the still glowing embers Spike lifted his hand and straightened his ever present black leather jacket. "So Luv, your name… what is it?"

She hesitated a second before pushing out, "Buffy."

"Buffy?"

"Yes."

"Buffy the Vampire?"

She sighed, "Yes."

"A vampire named, Buffy?"

"A Slayer named, Spike?" She retorted.

"Spike… I 'spike' vampires," he responded. "At least my name bloody well makes sense. What do you do? Spit shine and 'buff' your victims to death?"

He heard her growl.

"It's a family name okay? Blame my mom and dad for it!" She took a calming breath. "Do you do this to all of the vampires you run across? Is this your secret weapon? The reason for you longevity? Your ability to irritate them to death?"

It was Spike's turn to laugh. "No. The insults and irritation are more of the 'icing on the cake' kinda thing. Throw a punch, send out an insult. Deliver a kick, deliver a quip. Makes the fights a bit more fun."

"A Slayer who wants to have fun, huh? You know, playing cat and mouse with your food was the first thing I was taught NOT to do. Gives the mouse the actual chance to get away."

"I'll take that into consideration."

They walked along for a few more minutes in companionable, if hyper aware, silence; each of them comfortable with the 'game'; comfortable with the knowledge that THEY were the cat, and the one on the other side of the fence was the mouse.

"Rumor has it, that not only are you the only male slayer to live past 18, but, you're the oldest slayer, of any gender, ever."

"That IS the rumor."

"Your Watcher's Council must be very proud of you; their bleached blond, erh, golden Slayer."

"Proud of me? Hhhnn! They don't know what to make of –," Spike stopped. His relationship with the Council had been rocky, at best, for years. His only allegiance to them remaining through the respect he felt for his watcher, Willow. That being said, he didn't need to share his feelings for the council, or their feelings for him, with a complete stranger. A complete vampiric stranger.

"Actually, to be polite let's not talk about me. Let's talk about you – Buffy: The Woman Behind The Fangs."

Buffy made a mental note of the Slayer's avoidance of the topic of the council. She'd have to do some research on the status of the relationship between the Watcher's Council and this slayer, and see if she could find anything worth using against him.

"The woman behind the fangs, hmm? Well what do you want to know?"

"What line are you from?"

She paused, "Aurelius."

Spike stopped mid-step then continued. "I thought the clan Aurelius had died out."

"Died out?" She laughed again, but this time, there was bitterness in the laughter. "Destroyed. The clan was destroyed. All but two of us." A growl escaped her again as she pictured her great-grandsire, Angelus. Bastard.

"How did it happen? How were they destroyed?"

Buffy didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. Especially not with her enemy. "I think I'm done being polite now. I'll see you around, Slayer."

"Oi! You said I could see your face if we talked for a bit."

"I lied."

Spike approached the fence as he felt her moving away and using one hand as leverage against the metal bars, he leapt over the gate, landing in a crouch on the other side. He opened his senses, trying to get a feel for which direction the vampiress had headed, but he detected nothing. Nothing but grey.

"Fuck."

Standing up, he jumped back over the fence and reached into his coat for his cigarettes. He would have to see what information Willow could find on the clan Aurelius and their destruction. And he'd also have her see what she could find out about the vampire: Buffy. He had a funny feeling, that this wouldn't be his last encounter with her.