Reno, Nevada, 1999
"These casinos never close," Beth complained.
The radio crackled with Tabitha's laughter. "You're just cranky cause you can't get in yet."
"The Culith couldn't have waited a week?" Beth made a rude gesture at the radio, then picked up the binoculars. "Hey, where are you?"
"Blackjack table," Tabitha answered immediately. "What's up?"
"We got serious Culith bait coming in," Beth responded. "Uh, motorcycle boots, black duster, platinum blonde hair, can't miss him."
"Yeah, I got a visual. Keep an eye out but I got a feeling this is our guy. Ain't no way that bitch can resist this bait," Tabitha responded. "Hey, head's up. He's headin' back out. Elspeth, you keep your butt in that truck, you hear me, girl?"
"Uh huh," Beth answered. "I got him." There was a ripple of motion in the fountain in front of the casino. "And we got Culith."
"She must be hungry tonight." Tabitha's radio squealed. "Hit the lights!"
Beth reached down and hit the high beams on the gear shift. Twin beams lanced out, striking the water ifrit and the man at the same time. Angered, the Culith lashed out, sending both Tabitha and the man flying in opposite directions. The man crashed through the windshield of the truck, landing in Beth's lap. "Hello, cutie," gasped out after a moment.
"Stay here," Beth barked, and she jumped out of the truck. "Over here, she-bitch!" The ifrit lashed out again, but Beth was out of its reach. Holding up a small talisman, she shouted out an incantation. "Culith ifreet vok shau dae lin deu!"
Tabitha popped up on the other side, pulling a small wooden box out of her bag. "Culith ifreet vok shau dae lin deu!"
The tornado-like twirl of the ifrit's angry fight against being trapped threw Beth backwards and she crashed through the truck windshield.
The blonde man was still sitting in the truck when Beth crashed in, landing in his lap. "Hello again, love."
Beth grunted as she pulled herself upright. "Beth. Not cutie, not love, Beth."
Before the man could introduce himself, Tabitha came back over, carrying the safely-boxed ifrit. "Thought I told you stay in the truck, missy."
Beth just shrugged. "I am in the truck, Tabby." She turned around to check on the guy, but he was gone. "You're welcome!" she shouted out at the night.
-----
A week later, they were still in Reno, and Beth was celebrating her birthday at one of the casinos. Blackjack was her game; she didn't count cards but she knew how to hustle, and had a sizeable stack of chips to cash out. Suddenly a drink appeared on a silver tray in front of her, and she looked up at the waitress. The waitress pointed towards the poker table.
Beth turned to follow the pointed finger, and rolled her eyes. The blonde guy was sitting at the table, smirking as he raised a half-full shot glass in salute to her.
-----
Tabitha had already headed out; she'd gotten a call from an old friend, and found out that he'd gotten possessed and been exorcised successfully. So she left Beth in Reno, promising to pick her back up when she'd gotten her friend back on her feet.
So Beth extended her stay at the Double Down Hotel & Casino. Their room had been on the twelfth floor, and the elevator had stopped on nine. "Going up," she said out of habit, assuming the other passenger was headed down.
"So'm--hey, it's you!"
Beth scowled. "Man, are you following me around or what?"
"Y'know, I was gonna ask you that. But then I saw you two girls make mince outta that Culith ifrit, so I figured it'd be best for me if I didn't piss off a girl that could prob'ly kick my ass." He held out a hand. "Name's Spike."
Beth finally shrugged, and shook his hand. "Beth."
"Yeah, I remember," he said with a laugh, and then got off on Beth's floor. "You comin'?"
Beth blinked. "You're on this floor?"
"Well, yeah. 1214, to be precise."
"1212." Beth held up the key to prove it. "C'mon, in. You can tell me how in the hell you know what a Culith is."
"Best have a talk with your Watcher, luv," Spike answered, closing the door behind her. "Especially 'bout invitin' strange men into your room." His face shifted, showing bumps and ridges over his forehead and nose, and fangs from his mouth.
"My what?" Beth tossed her jacket onto the table by the door, but her back was still to Spike. "What the hell is a Watcher?"
"Wait… you're not a Slayer in training?" Quickly his face morphed back to his human contours. "You ain't a Slayer?"
"Um, no. Last I heard, there's only one, and she's out in California on a Hellmouth somewhere," Beth retorted, turning on her heel to glare.
"Oh, bugger." If she wasn't a Slayer, or a wannabe, he didn't want to kill her until he found out what she was and if she could have a chance of killing him in the process.
Beth swiped her credit card through the reader on the liquor cabinet, and pulled out two small bottles in one hand. "Okay, Wild Turkey all the way around." She pitched one to Spike and kept the other one. "Now, what's that riff you were on about earlier, something about Watchers and strange men, which you definitely qualify as?"
Spike caught the bottle easily, brain working fast. "Uh, well, it's not like you know me from a hole in the wall," he pointed out, "But y'let me in, assuming I'm who I say."
Beth cracked up. "You just crossed two salt lines, a devil's trap, and a string of cat's eye shells." She pulled a leather thong out of her collar, and let the little anti-possession charm dangle between her fingers. "If you were a demon you couldn't have come across the salt; same if you were a ghost. You crossed the trap, so you're clean there, and there's an extra spread of goofer dust around the bed. Last, but not least?" She lifted the pillow on the bed to display a small arsenal of three knives and three guns. "The knife blades are either iron or silver, and the handguns are loaded with three calibers of silver bullets blessed by a priest."
"What the bloody hell are you?" Spike asked, liquor forgotten in his intrigue.
"That's just the question I was going to ask you," Beth shot back. "How do you know what a Culith is, but be shocked by the rest of this stuff? And how do you know so much about the Slayer and all that business, but not recognize hunters like me and Tabby?"
A hunter. That sort of explained a few things, but it also opened up a whole lot more questions. "So, you and… this Tabby bint hang around waiting for Culith water demons an' you take care of 'em? See, I thought she was your Watcher type," he offered as vague explanation.
"Not just Culith. Demons, ghosts, ghouls, werewolves, vamps, shifters, black dogs, cursed objects, and for my graduation present, Tabby let me make up the banishing bags to clear out a poltergeist." Beth sipped from her bottle. "Your turn. Cough up a damn good explanation, and I mean a good one."
Spike considered. "I've had some dealin' with a Culith before. They, uh, they don't really like me." But the mention of vamps had him curious. "Y'ain't a Vampire Slayer, but y'hunt vamps?"
"Oh no. That's not even close enough to a good explanation," Beth said, propping her feet up on the bed. "Not answering anything else until you pony up with the tat."
"Until I do what?" he asked, coughing as he choked on his liquor.
"You know, tit for tat. Fair exchange, quid pro quo, Clarice. I tell you things, you tell me things. Tit for tat. I titted, it's your turn to tat." But before Beth could explain any further, the room's telephone rang. "Yeah? Yeah, it's me. No, she's not. Oh. Oh, yeah, okay. No, don't worry. Rifle Flats. Got it. Just pack up the kids and take 'em to a hotel til I get there. If I can't handle it I'll have Tabby meet me at your place. Don't worry, Don. Yeah. Bye." She turned around, still talking to Spike. "That was a job, I've--"
But by the time she'd gotten off the phone, Spike was long gone.
-----
On the Highway, Between Reno and Rifle Flatts, Utah
At first glance, Beth didn't think twice about the classic car with the blacked out windows. She always saw a lot of the same cars for hours at a time, until a busy on-ramp brought a whole new fleet of cars for the next few hours.
She didn't even give it another look; interstates were like that, all across the country. When she'd been younger, and Tabitha had been driving, Beth would turn around in the seat and watch the cars, naming them and waving to the people inside them. Now though, she kept her eyes on the road.
But the black car hovered in and out of her rearview mirror all day. The windows were so heavily tinted they looked black as the car's paint job, and she couldn't tell who was behind the wheel.
She finally lost it when she took an off-ramp at the Nevada state line, and it roared past her. Putting it out of her mind with a mental five-year-old bye-bye wave, Beth pulled into the parking lot of the Comfort Inn she'd seen off the interstate, booked a room for the night, and passed out on the bed.
-----
She woke a little after 1 AM, stomach rumbling hungrily. She'd had a strange dream about that Spike guy, involving nudity, a shower, a mirror, and a hotel room that she didn't recognize. "Jesus, Beth, you need to get laid in the worst way," she said aloud, dragging her fingers through her hair before stretching.
"Couldn't agree more, pet." Spike was sitting at the small table by the window, peering out into the dark parking lot before pulling the drapes closed. "Got it kind of chilly in here, don't you? And, by the way, I'd be a lot more careful about using the security lock if I were you," he added casually, getting up and double locking the door. "Didn't take no time for me to get in here, although." He sat back down at the table. "You did give me the slip back at the exit. Had to double back to get you, but I found you."
Beth was very calm as Spike got up and locked her in the room with him. Her guns were in the duffel bag at the foot of the bed, and she had a knife under her pillow. It'd been all she'd had the energy to unpack before her collapse earlier.
She stopped, though, when she smelled something familiar and spicy. "… is that… why is there a pizza on my dresser?"
"Well, I did follow you all day, you know," he pointed out. "You didn't exactly stop for dinner, figured you might be hungry."
She blinked. "You think I'm gonna eat pizza from a guy who's been stalking me?"
"God, you're paranoid." Spike heaved a sigh as he brought the box over, opened it up, and picked up a slice. He took a huge bite out of it, chewing and swallowing. "See? It's not poisoned, drugged, or tampered with in any way. All it has on it is whatever's on pizza normally plus extra pepperonis."
Beth waited nearly ten minutes, just to make sure Spike wasn't going to keel over dead, and then she reached hungrily for the pizza. "Okay, see, I don't have that great a relationship with the cops, but if you don't start talking in the next five seconds, I'm reaching for that telephone and dialing 911."
Spike actually laughed. "No you're not. See, you're goin' on another job, I guessed that from the call you got earlier. I know where you're goin', too, and I figure I'm gonna tag along, figure out who you are."
"Oh, great. I save your life and you're going all Fatal Attraction on me. Just what I need, my very own stalker boy." Beth sighed, and dropped the pizza crust back into the box as she dug out another slice. "Look, I'm flattered. But it's nothing personal, okay? Tabitha and I help anyone who's in trouble. I didn't pick you because you're special or my one true love or anything like that, okay? Don't go boiling anybody's bunny or anything like that, and you'll be fine. Just… go find a nice girl somewhere else and leave me to my business, please? I don't want to get you killed. Aside from your creepy stalker tendency, you seem to be… well, at least relatively nice, and I'm sure you can find a girl somewhere who doesn't mind the constant attention."
"Yeah, you'd think so." Spike's answer was curt and a little bitter. "But, you'd be wrong. 'Sides, you're really the most interestin' person I've come 'cross since Dru. And I ain't had a decent kill in weeks."
Beth paused, pizza slice halfway to her mouth. "A good kill?" she echoed. "Maybe I should be making that call to 911 after all."
Oh balls. Spike cast around quickly for an explanation. "Bollocks. Well, I figure I can take you if you get bitchy." He let his face morph into his game face.
Beth's jaw dropped. The demonic yellow eyes, the hard protuberances. "What in the hell are you?" The pizza box hit the floor as she jumped out of the bed, keeping it between them.
"I'm the big bad wolf, baby," Spike growled, licking his lips. In a single smooth motion, he vaulted over the bed and landed a few steps away from Beth. "And I haven't had a bite in weeks."
Beth had been holding her breath, but at the threat, she visibly relaxed. "Someone's been ODing on horror movies," she said, tension draining as she laughed. "What kind of spell did you use for that?"
Spike was taken aback. Most people were rightfully terrified of his game face, and he was not used to having anyone laugh. "Spell? What?"
Beth just shrugged. "You're a vamp junkie, right? Dracula, Blade, Nosferatu? Got a spell or talisman to make you look creepy, give you faux fangs, whatever."
He blinked. "Dracula, no. Not a sodding chance in hell I'd want to be like that pillock. What kind of hunter are you that you don't know a bloody vampire when you see one?"
Laughing again, Beth grinned. "You? Are not a vampire. Vamps don't change their faces like that, and they don't have fangs. They've got a second set of teeth that descend when they feed."
"You're out of your mind," Spike answered, still slightly off-kilter.
"And you're adorable." Beth came forward and reached out slowly to touch Spike's face.
Spike was stunned, intrigued, and still a little miffed at the lack of fear. But he stayed still, letting Beth's fingers explore his bumps and ridges. Deciding that if he couldn't scare, he'd impress, Spike let his game face drift back to his normal look.
Beth gasped softly, feeling the skin and bone ripple and move under her fingertips. "That's some transformation," she admitted. "Anyone ever tell you that you're really kind of handsome? And that you don't need that kind of magic trick?"
He didn't try to persuade her any differently. "So you think I'm handsome?" he asked with a manipulative grin.
"I think you know just how good-looking you are," she pointed out dryly, avoiding the answer.
"What's the job in Rifle Flats?" Spike asked, brushing his fingertips lightly over Beth's forearm and bicep.
"Haunted house," Beth breathed. She was aware of Spike's hand moving in gentle drifts over her skin, and his voice was satiny smooth and whispery soft. "Should be an easy salt and burn."
Spike just nodded. "You know, most people get scared by the other face. But not you. I like you. So I'm not going to kill you," he reassured. "I don't kill the people who make life interestin', cause they're few'n far between."
Beth didn't say anything for a moment. She and Spike had moved closer together, until Spike was whispering nearly every word directly into her ear. Half expecting a kiss that never came, her breath sighed out quickly. "I believe you," she said, surprised that it was the truth.
"So if I follow you, do I get to watch you work?" Spike's new motivation was simple; maybe this odd little girl with her trinkets could offer him a new way to kill the Slayer. At least that was his rationalization.
"Don't follow me," Beth ordered softly. "I don't wanna see you get hurt."
"I can take care of myself, pet," Spike answered, just as softly. His hand stayed on her arm, fingernails barely brushing her arm. It made her shiver, every time he feathered touches across her skin, and it made him smile. "I can take care of you too."
"I can take care of myself, Spike," Beth pointed out, but she was surrendering to the shivery touches.
"Y'know, I don't doubt that in th' least." The kiss that Beth had been half-expecting finally came as Spike leaned in to press his mouth against hers. He wasn't sure if he was going to get slapped, kissed back, or staked through the heart. He was okay with the first two, but then he didn't have to worry when Beth's arms wrapped around his neck. He pulled her in close, fingers moving from her arms to her hips, situating her body close to his.
She should've been saying no. She should've been leaving the room, running fast, getting the hell out of dodge, but there was something she couldn't define keeping her in the room. Spike wasn't even holding her tightly; she could easily break away but she wasn't. "What are you doing to me?" she whispered against his lips.
"If I have to tell you, then we're both not doing something right." His hand stroked down her back, pressing the small of her back to move her against him. He gave a soft groan of satisfaction, and Beth's nails drifted down the back of his jacket. "Relax, love, not going to hurt you."
"Somehow I believe that." She tilted her head into the kiss again, and shivered in a different way when the cool air hit her naked skin and she realized Spike had pulled her shirt off. When she noticed that, she saw too that his jacket was gone, tossed onto the table by the window, along with the red over-shirt. His black t-shirt was all that remained, and Beth's hands pulled at it.
Spike helped, raising his arms and stepping back long enough to let Beth pull the shirt off over his head, and he was surprised when her mouth moved down his neck to lick over his skin. The shock of it made him tremble, and Beth's hands came to brace against his bare chest.
She felt the trembling, and didn't like it. Her hands stroked over Spike's chest as her mouth kissed back up his neck, then caught his mouth again. Still leaning against the wall, she pulled Spike in just a little so that she was caught completely between the wall and the weight of his body pressing down against her.
It pleased him to hear the sigh of pleasure that came out of her. His lips worked a hot trail across her shoulder, his fingernails skimming over her sides and up her chest. She sighed again against his skin, and he pulled back just long enough to kick off his boots and pull his jeans off with them.
Beth had done the same thing, to Spike's surprise again, because when he turned back around, she was as naked as he was. There was no underwear visible in the room, no red marks on her skin where a bra had chafed her, and he readjusted his opinion of her because she had been commando.
He didn't say anything, just pulled her back towards the bed. He interlaced their fingers together, palm to palm and used their joined hands to yank her down on top of him. The sudden move sucked the breath out of Beth's chest, and Spike rolled so that he was looming on top of her and kissed her again.
He brought her hands up over her head, pressing them firmly against the pillow. "Don't move now," he murmured, kissing down her stomach.
"I'm a virgin," Beth blurted out bluntly.
Spike paused, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Say that again, pet."
Beth's face flushed, but her voice didn't waver. "I'm a virgin."
All right; he'd admit it. That wasn't what he'd expected. And, truth be told, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Sure, he'd broken more than a few virgins in over his time, some of them had even been willing, and a very few had been glad to have a lover that couldn't knock them up. "Uh, little late to be readin' a warnin' label, there."
Her flush deepened, but she didn't flinch away or try to move. "I just thought you should know before you… you know. Did anything that. That might not be the surprise you were looking for."
He laughed, mood shattered, and kissed the inside of her thigh. "Never woulda guessed it. You're just full of surprises there, Bethie love."
"I hate Bethie." She squirmed out to roll onto her side to look up at him.
"It fits." He looked at the clock by the bed. "Sun's up in a few hours."
"Yeah, and I've got to be ready to go by the time it's light out," Beth admitted, sliding her hand up Spike's arm and over to his neck. Pulling him in gently, she kissed him. "So what do you say we get on with the sex part, because I really, really want to get laid tonight, and it really, really needs to be you."
Another surprise, and Spike just grinned into the kiss. "Well, who am I to argue with a demand like that?"
People usually didn't get past Spike. He was usually the one to wake up and be out before sunrise, or before the other person in bed with him could even know he was gone. Waking up alone was something he hadn't expected.
It hadn't deterred him, however. A peek out the window confirmed what the emptiness in the room had meant; Beth was long gone. And after last night, Spike wasn't exactly sure he was quite ready to let that new source of entertainment go. He hadn't gone so far as to consider siring her, but now that the thought crossed his mind, he didn't exactly kick it out.
Instead, he looked for his car, made sure it was still in the shadows being thrown by the early morning light, and made a bolt for it.
-----
He kept looking for Beth's pickup on the interstate, but apparently she had gotten enough of a head start on him that he couldn't find her in the packs and herds of cars. Instead, he kept the accelerator on the floor, going as fast as the old Chevy would fly, growling out the lyrics to the songs playing on the 8-track.
He found the off ramp for "Rifle Flats, Nixville, and Johnstonville," right about sundown, and whipped across three lanes of traffic to make it, skidding to a halt at the red light.
The directional sign pointed west for Rifle Flats, and Spike pulled onto the two-lane blacktop. The road was completely dark, without streetlights or reflectors to guide the way, but Spike didn't need them. His vision was better than anything the lights could've shown him.
Still, though, he nearly plowed into another classic car pulled across both lanes of the road. The other was a black Chevy, about a decade or so more recent than his finmobile. "Hey! What's the big bloody idea, blockin' the road like that?" Spike shouted, opening his door and getting out.
The driver of the other car got out as well, and Spike sized him up quickly. The distressed leather jacket was too big for him, the necklace around his neck the only thing reflecting the headlights on his car. His eyes seemed too old for his face, and the body swallowed up by the jacket looked used to fighting. "You're Spike, right?"
He frowned. "Yeah, who're you?"
"I'm a friend of Beth's," the man answered. "And you need to head back where you came from, friend."
"Oh, I'm not your friend." Spike vamped out, growling and launching himself at the other man. They landed in a tangle of limbs together, rolling in the dirt and exchanging punches until finally Spike found himself on his back, with a knee across his throat.
"Look, J--Beth asked me not to hurt you, okay? So don't make me into a liar." Slowly the other man moved, and Spike got up slowly. "Just get in your car, turn around, and go on your merry way."
Spike spat to the side of the man's worn motorcycle boots. "She ain't getting rid of me that easy."
The man sighed. "Look, I know the girl, and I know her aunt. And believe me, they are not the women you want to be on the wrong side of," he explained. "And hey, I'm the first to admit, the girl is… smokin' hot. But she's also the one that they coined the word heartbreaker for."
No, heartbreaker was for the woman who Sired you, loved you for a century, then dumped you for another vampire and then a slime-antlered demon. But Spike didn't vocalize that thought. "So what's the name they're gonna find on your headstone, mate?"
The man had the audacity to laugh. "Winchester. Dean Winchester."
"Well, Dean, you can either get out of my way, or you can die."
"You can try, but." Dean reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cross and a bottle of holy water. "See? I watch movies too, and I bet that you don't like either one of these things." Uncapping the holy water, Dean splashed a little of it towards Spike.
Spike growled, dancing back. "That's not playin' fair."
"Whatever works," Dean said with a shrug. Using the cross and the holy water, Dean maneuvered Spike back into his car. Spike went unwillingly, refusing to cede a step of ground until Dean was nearly on top of him with the cross.
Once Spike was in his car, he considered running Dean over. He even revved his engine. But as he did that, a handful of other people came out of the woods to investigate the noise. Most were carrying shotguns, some torches, some flashlights. He scanned them over, but didn't see Beth until the rest of them had come out. She was the last to emerge from the woods, covered in dirt and twigs, soot and reeking of gasoline so strongly he could smell it with the car windows up.
He rolled the car window down, sliding into the passenger seat to stick his head out on the side of the car Beth was approaching. "Oy, need a ride?"
"Spike. I told you--"
"See, I don't listen." He swung the door open, and then moved back over to the driver's seat. "Let's go."
Dean moved to stand between Beth and the car, but Beth touched him on the shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. He's… a friend of mine."
"That's not what you said before, honey," Dean pointed out.
"But it's what she's sayin' now, mate. Move or I'll move you, cross or not." Spike smirked. There was a silent stand-off, and when Dean moved out of the way, Spike moved fast. He hooked his arm around Beth's waist and had her in the car before the salt-filled shotgun shells were exploding against his windshield, spiderwebbing it with cracks and breaks.
He hit the gas as he slammed the car in reverse, and the tires laid rubber and smoke in his wake as he tore off in the direction he'd came.
"Spike! Spike, stop! Dammit, stop this minute!" Beth shrieked it loudly, punching him in the shoulder and the side of the head.
"Don't have time for this, pet." He grabbed her around the throat and dragged her over, sinking his teeth into her neck and drinking just enough to knock the fight out of her and keep her unconscious.
"Spi--" Blackness swallowed her protests as she sagged against Spike, and then nothingness enveloped her.
"Sorry about that, baby," he muttered, keeping an eye on the rapidly shrinking headlights in their wake.
-----
The next time Beth woke--completely awoke--she was disoriented. She could hear voices, many of them, whispering and laughing and talking. She heard one, familiar voice, calling her name.
She couldn't figure out why she was outside, why she was cold, until she realized that there was dirt all around her. Dirt, even on her face, and she couldn't breathe. Wasn't breathing, but that wasn't possible, was it?
Blackness and claustrophobia leapt up instantly to strangle her, and she tried to focus on the one voice that seemed so high above her.
C'mon, love, time to wake up. Just come on up, Spike'll take care of the rest for you. Bethie, time to rise.
Beth, yes. That was her, the voice was Spike, and he was waking her up, just like he'd promised. She vaguely remembered it, vaguely remembered him carrying her into the woods, leaving the car behind, giving her something nice and hot to drink--blood.
Yes, blood, and she'd drunk it down greedily after gagging on the first few mouthfuls, but it had become as delicious as wine and chocolate together. And then Spike had laid her down and covered her with dirt and promised that he'd be there to wake her up the next evening.
She'd slept all day. Somehow she remembered the warm sun baking the earth, leaching the cold from her body but now the sun and the warm was gone.
Bethie, love, come on, don't do this to me. Get your ass moving, love, we need to make the miles tonight. Just reach up, baby. Just reach up, come on.
Spike was still calling to her, and telling her all she had to do. So she reached up, pushing her arm through the dirt and the debris on the floor of the forest, and a cool hand clasped hers. "That's my girl," Spike crowed.
He had been encouraging her to rise for the last half hour, hoping she'd have done it sooner, but when he saw her hand emerge, he grabbed it tightly and pulled her the rest of the way out of the makeshift grave. He wasn't fond of burial, but it protected her from the sunlight and the hunters that he'd been dodging all morning. "Spike."
He grinned. "That's my girl. Got you some clean clothes in the car." He didn't mention he'd stolen a new ride.
Beth stretched as she climbed out of the grave with Spike's help, and brushed the leaves and sticks out of her hair. "I'm hungry," she complained, her tongue running over her new fangs. She automatically knew how to use them, knew everything that Spike knew because he'd passed it to her when he'd Sired her.
"I know you are, baby. And I got just the place for us to go," he explained, pulling her into his arms. "Plenty of people for you to kill, and only one girl to stop us." He licked his lips. "Let me tell you about the Slayer while we're on the way to the Hellmouth."
"Just one girl? I can take her."
The End