Chapter 1.

A/N. Okie dokes, Set in season 2, before anyone meets Spike and Drusilla.

I came up with the idea for this after I had a dream, which it is very loosely based on. That was a badass dream. There was gun fights on a horse. Which sadly wont be included in this story, unless I can come up with a reasonable reason to do so.

Anyway, its just the first chapter of 7 planned chapters. Read on, and please, try to enjoy. Im not entirely happy with it, so Ill probably make some adjustments when I can be bothered.

The night was cold, not surprising, it was winter. The bitter wind was catching on the clothes of the two bodies circling each other in an open space in the unusually crowded graveyard. The moonlight, on the few moments it peeked out from behind the dark clouds, made the two blonde heads shine white.

The girl, Buffy Summers. Aged 17. Second to last year at Sunnydale High. Second year in Sunnydale. And every second year was a year more than anyone expected her to live. But she kept fighting, and, more importantly, kept winning. So far.

The man? William T. Bloody. No one was quite sure of his exact age, maybe not him even. Anyway, he's 124. As a human he was rather pathetic and poetic, and as a vampire, he thinks he's quite the opposite, but not really.

"It's a dance, pet." He said, aiming a roundhouse kick at her head. She dodged it, and he paused in battle stance, cocking his head and adding, "Do you know how to dance?"

Her features were hard and resolute when she replied, and still focused on the slay, she quipped, "I took the lessons." She aimed a punch at his nose.

Girl had spunk. But he caught her hand, and, proving spunk isn't always enough, twisted. It snapped at the elbow, and she gasped in pain, while she was distracted he kneed her face. The world started to go black, and she began to lose consciousness. The last thing she felt, was his hands on either side of her head, and as he began to twist, she realised she wouldn't wake up. And she never did.

"Bye bye Buff." Spike laughed.

Willow Rosenberg, and her oldest and best friend Xander Harris were slaying that night. And by slaying, I mean they were wandering the streets of Sunnydale, keeping an eye out for evil, and if said evil occurred, calling Buffy and letting her deal with it. Safer that way.

"Okay." Xander said. "Would you rather… Sleep with Sean McEwen from trig class, or be hung upside down from an aeroplane and flown in lots if dizzying circles?"

"Can I wear I blindfold to sleep with Sean?" replied Willow.

"Yes, but only in a kinky way."

"Then aeroplane. Kinky ex with McEwen? Id rather ANYTHING."

"Okay, my turn. Shoot."

"Okay… um…. Same question."

"Ew! Willow, that just… Ew."

"Answer!"

Sigh. "Fine. Aeroplane."

Over the past 2 years the duo had learnt that Sunnydale was more than an ordinary town. They had fought, and beaten, many evil creatures that go bump in the night, and they had come to terms with the fact that they were possibly going to die one day in the call of duty, but they were going to die they way they had always lived. As best friends, confidants, and sharers of silly hypothetical questions. Sometimes it was the only way to get through the night.

Xander was walking backwards facing his friend now, hands in his pockets. Willow was simultaneously chatting, and alerting him when he was about to walk into something.

"Okay," She said. "Last question, then your nipping into the 7-11 to get Slurpies, Ready?"

Xander nodded, quickly glancing behind him to see where the 7-11 actually was. "Okay, Would you rather… sleep with Angel, or Giles?"

Xander chewed on his lip thoughtfully, then grinned. "Both. They're very attractive men Will."

Willow looked very disturbed for a moment, before shooing him off to the shop. Fishing coins from his pocket, the boy jogged across the quiet road.

If he had been watching the street where Willow was waiting, rather than testing how many flavours he could load into one cardboard cup, Xander would've noticed the man that came up to talk to Willow.

If he had stopped at the counter and glanced out the window, rather than try to juggle 2 large Slurpie cups, a Giant Twix bar, and a handful of coins, he would've seen the man take Willows arm and drag her off, laughing merrily with her as she fell into his thrall.

If he hadn't quickly flicked through the latest issue of Amazing Spiderman before leaving the store to the tired and bored boy at the counter, he may have gotten outside quickly enough to call Willow back, and send the vampire with her scurrying into the shadows.

As it was, he was left alone, in an empty street, with full knowledge of the nature of the town he lived in.

Willow came to herself not long after the man took her away from the street she was waiting on. After shaking her head and orientating herself, she looked at him.

Bleach blonde hair, check.

Leather jacket, check.

Smoking, check.

Never-been-out-in-the-sun skin, check.

Total; definite weirdo.

She stumbled backwards, and into a brick wall. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

"Evening pet." He said, with a lower class British accent. "There isn't really anywhere to go, we're in a little alley. Even if there was somewhere to run, I could catch you in two ticks of a sheep's tail. Or a goats tail. Or something. Maybe it was a lamb." He shook his head. "I could catch you."

Willow pressed her back harder against the cold wall.

"What do you want with me?" She stammered. "I mean, dinner, right. Silly me!" She giggled a little hysterically. "Please let me go!"

Spike was watching her with an amused look on his face.

"Um… no, love." He said, smiling amiably. "But, If you want, and mind I don't offer this much, If you want, I'll make you like me. It'll be fun."

"A vampire? No! I mean, Buffy would kill me!"

A dark look flashed across Spike's face.

"Buffy? You know about her?" He asked, losing the edge of his cockiness for a split second.

"Well, yeah. She's my best friend."

Spike groaned and looked up at the sky. "How do I get myself into these things?" He whined to no-one in particular. "Er, Red, There's something you should know…"

"What? Its Buffy isn't it? What have you done?!" Willow cried, prematurely devastated.

"Oh, sod it."

Spike lunged at her and bit down into her neck. Killing her? Easy. Telling her he'd just killed her best friend? Way harder.

When she was turning the handle to death's door, Spike stopped. Turning his fangs on his own wrist, he began dripping his own blood into her mouth, humming as he did so. Once she's swallowed enough that she would wake the next night, he licked his wrist closed, and lifted her into his arms.

"Come on pet, I'll take you home to the gang."