The night was still, the only sounds being the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of leaves. You were out late, walking home after a long evening at Buffy’s, your thoughts a tangle of the usual worries and responsibilities. The streets were mostly empty, and though you knew Sunnydale had its dangers, you felt relatively safe. After all you where a good fighter.

But then, as you turned a corner into a darker, quieter part of town, you felt it-Someone was watching you.

You stopped, scanning the area, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it intensified, a slow crawl of unease that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Evening, love.”

The voice was low, smooth, and entirely too close. You spun around to find Spike leaning casually against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Spike,” you said, your tone a mix of wariness and exasperation. “What are you doing here?”

He pushed off the lamppost, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “Oh, just out for a stroll,” he replied, his voice lazy, almost playful. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you all alone, wandering the dark streets of Sunnyhell.”

You crossed your arms, trying to mask the flicker of nerves his presence always seemed to ignite. “I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I know that,” Spike said, stepping closer. “You’re a tough one, aren’t you? Always by the Slayer’s side, standing up to the nasties without a second thought.” He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “But that’s gotta be exhausting, doesn’t it? Being the good little soldier, always doing what’s right.”

You frowned, unsure where he was going with this. “What’s your point, Spike?”

“My point,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “is that maybe you’re getting tired of it. The endless fight, all for what? To be second fiddle to the Slayer, to live in her shadow?... But, to make it short. Why don't a talented person like you join me? I don't give the offer to anyone"